Kingdom Hearts: Protocol Hounds
by DancingShadowsUnlimited
Summary: A young woman exacts her revenge on the universe for the death of her beloved father, while another unfortunate soul is shackled to a keyblade. Four factions, all destined to destroy one another. But is there another? I intend to finish this.
1. Chapter 1

**One**

The clean, cold scent ever so familiar to Anna hit her nose in a gentle, wafting breeze. This breeze, too, she noticed, was easily recognizable. It was that gentle, pleasant chill of Radiant Garden that she had never felt anywhere else. No matter where she went, that chill was always home.

Home. At last.

Five years had passed in Anna's life, separated from the people she loved and the home she had spent the other eighteen years in. Now, at twenty-three, she was a strikingly beautiful young woman; slender, pale, and with long, brown hair always full of sheen. What Anna had never realized in all of her twenty-three years, however, was that she hadn't changed since the day she was born.

Suddenly, she realized that she was rather hot. It seemed odd, what with the constant cold, but as she removed her jacket, exposing her sleeveless turtleneck, she was hit with a sudden joy. The cold was something everyone here got used to. It was official, now. She was back.

As she made it into the city, she realized that it was different than how she had left it; bigger, but nicer and more inviting in a way that she couldn't quite put her finger on. It didn't really bother her, though. It must've meant Daddy was doing well for himself.

Daddy…

Yes, that was whom she was here to see. As new as the city was, it didn't take her long to find the tram system that led to the castle. Surprisingly, however, the simple platforms had been replaced. Instead, she found nifty tramcars that traveled back and forth between the castle and town. Oddly, nobody seemed to be interested in visiting. People tended to crowd the castle before she had left, and she couldn't imagine why no one was on the car. Still, it was more free room. She sat down and relaxed as the car began its automated route.

As it passed over the crystal canyons, she couldn't help but take a look into the peaceful deep that had once been her thinking spot. It brought back memories of the times that she had needed her own space, downtime. Daddy had showed it to her when she was younger, and it became her favorite place to be.

Now, she was bubbling with excitement. After what seemed like an eternity, the car made its stop. She raced to the front door, her ominous, stone defender from birth, and allowed it to swing open.

"Daddy!" she cried, rushing in, "I'm home!" She stood, grinning, waiting for him to arrive. When nothing happened, her smile began to fade. "Daddy!" she called again. Still, nothing. "Ienzo? Xehanort? Braig?" Nobody responded.

In the midst of looking about for any sign of life, she noticed that the foyer wasn't neat and tidy anymore. Pots and statues were smashed, railings were splintered, there were slash marks on the walls, and the carpeting was filthy and tattered. No, the room wasn't just dirty. It was destroyed. This wasn't a case of bad housekeeping. Something had happened.

She dropped her suitcase and ran up the stairs, down the hall, and into the library. While this wasn't destroyed, there was little sign that it was being used. She could remember people coming in and out of here, always reading books. She could distinctly remember Even being quite an avid reader. If that wasn't enough, the entire place was dusty and dirty. Nobody cared anymore.

She ran up the steps, a knot forming in her throat in fear, and to the stone, cold lift system. She touched the crystal, warped into the elevator, and proceeded to rap on the bar in a specific rhythm. Rather than rise, it sank into the lower levels. The halls.

Now came a painful horror. The halls, normally brazen and fantastic, were now a miserable labyrinth of debris. She slowly shuffled through them, agape, horrified, looking upon the destruction. There must've been an explanation. There was simply no sense in this.

Suddenly, a miniscule, shadowy creature with bulbous yellow eyes and antennas materialized in front of her. Its body bobbed and weaved constantly, but always had its eyes fixed on her. Then, she was surrounded by them before she could tell what happened. They closed in, filthy little claws reached out. One caught her on the arm, and she recoiled, trying to get out of the black circle.

Then came the sphere of light. A small disc swept across the floor and positioned itself under one of the monsters. It changed into two, one rising up and exposing a peculiar little ball. The animal was vaporized, and the sphere raced across the ground to strike the others. As more of the little beasts appeared, more digital demons rose to face them.

"Anna!" came a distinguishable voice from what seemed to be the air.

"Tron?" she called in response.

"No time, Anna! Follow the blue disk!" At this, a blue disk appeared and hovered in midair, a disk that she recognized as an identity disk. Anna wasted no time in wondering how it got here and followed it as it lead her down the halls as more of the creatures rose from the darkness to face the digital orbs. She let her legs carry her as fast as they could past the pain that began to arise until at last they reached Ansem's study. The door behind them slammed shut and she heard the heavy lock situate itself.

"Never thought I'd see you again, Anna," Tron spoke. This time, he, too, was in the room. He reached for his disk, replaced it on his back, and smiled. "I apologize for not being much use, personally, back there. But, as you can see, I'm not much use anywhere but inside the system."

"Understandable," Anna managed to mutter through her deep breaths. She looked up after she had caught her breath, only to finally let the tears flow. The study, while not in the worst shape of the entire castle, looked the worst in her eyes. This had been Ansem's study, his own personal crystal canyon. He could think here, he could be alone here. He had even been known to sleep here. Now, everything was turned over and scattered about, and, most disturbingly, young Xehanort's portrait hung on the wall, rather than Ansem's own.

"Puzzling," Tron sighed, "I know. I will say that it all revolves around those creatures outside."

"What are they?" Anna asked.

"Your father was a scientist," Tron began, "and, like every good scientist, he had his life's work."

"You're making no sense," she choked. "And what do you mean 'was'? Where is my father?"

Tron frowned and let his head sink for a moment before saying, "He left a year after you did. In the wake of his leave, those unfortunate animals obliterated Radiant Garden. In a sense, they took your father's colleagues with them."

"What do you mean?"

"Heartless, Anna. Malevolent beings that live solely for the purpose of destruction, to devour hearts."

"That's not possible," Anna insisted. "My father's work didn't involve heart-sapping, sadistic shadows. He worked to uncover the secrets of the heart."

"And in doing so, unleashed darkness incarnate," Tron finished. "When they find prey, they seek to rob it of its heart, creating more of themselves, as well as separate entities forged from the catatonic body."

"Don't put him at fault!"

"Your father was a great and wise man, but he made an error. Every good scientist does. Unfortunately, some are too great and nearly irreparable. Your father's error happened to be one of these."

"When did you turn on us, Tron?" Anna sobbed. She was never one for crying loudly, but now she was confused, scared, and enraged.

Tron smiled again and answered, "I overlooked your birth, Anna. The only person that could care about you more than I do is your father, and I have nothing but respect for him." At this, Anna's sobs softened, and she tried to hug her friend, then remembered that he wasn't actually here. She laughed to herself through her tears and calmed down.

"Why is Xehanort's picture on the wall?" she asked.

Tron looked over his shoulder and said, "Xehanort became something your father never anticipated. Their experiments caused a transformation in the way Xehanort functioned. The effects began to spread like a disease to the rest of the apprentices, and they began to get out of control in their own experiments. When they reached the point of no return, your father left for safety's sake. Even had he stayed, there would have been nothing he could have done to save his home. Radiant Garden was decimated, and became Hollow Bastion: the source of the Heartless."

"That's why it was different," Anna murmured in despair and thought.

"After one of Xehanort's egos met his match, a few survivors of the slaughter returned to begin reconstruction. Given the timeframe, I would say they did phenomenally." This didn't hit Anna as well as Tron had hoped. She folded her arms and looked to the floor, still stuck on Ansem's predicament.

"Where?" she asked, "Where is he now?"

To this Tron had no answer that would satisfy her. He frowned again and sighed, "I can only speculate."

Anna overlooked the crystal canyons from the castle postern, emotions finally in check. Ansem could be alive, but right now, she didn't give that a high probability. Surely, if he had heard of Radiant Garden's restoration, he would have returned to see it, at least. She wanted to cry in bewilderment and despair, but she had done enough of that already. Now, she was in as much of her thoughtful spot as she was willing to be without leaving the castle. Someone had to be here, at least for now.

"You shouldn't do that, you know," came a strong voice from her right. "Leaving your friends and not returning for years on end." She turned to see a lean, muscular man with long, brown hair and a black ensemble. "You can really scare some people."

"Leon," she sighed, going to him and hugging him. Leon had been her friend for as long as she could remember, and a big fan of Ansem.

"You've really missed a lot," he said as they separated.

"So I've heard," she responded, turning back to the canyons, "but I still don't fully understand."

"Not many of us do. But what I can tell you is that the castle isn't safe anymore. This is the only place where the Heartless fester lately."

"There isn't a way to get rid of them?"

"We've tried," Leon answered, "and we've managed to keep them out of town. But there's something about the castle that they still love."

"Where is my father?" Anna asked after a long moment of thinking. "If he were here, he could handle it. I know it. Now where is he?"

Leon choked. He couldn't bring himself to say it, not only for her sake, but it was still painful to think that Ansem was…

She looked at him sternly, and he looked back, his face grave.

"I see," she finished.

"I'm sorry, Anna," Leon managed. He went to put a comforting arm on her shoulder…

…And found the space already occupied.

"Poor child," a heavily accented, echoic voice spoke to Anna's left. Leon glanced at the arm around her shoulder, shocked. The flesh looked like it had been sun burnt beyond the tolerance of pain until it reached halfway up the forearm. There, it mutated into a giant bird's leg, complete with three unsettling talons.

Then, the beast stepped back, revealing his entire body to Leon. He was human everywhere else, it seemed. The rest of his shirtless body was disturbingly crimson, like his arms. His hair was blonde and hung in wisps on his head. His lower body was, apparently, human, covered by a tattered pair of khakis and old, black shoes.

"She loses everything in the course of one day," he continued. "One day! Where will she go after this? There is nothing but pain and anguish here."

"Anna, move!" Leon shouted, reaching for his gunblade, only to find that it was gone. He turned around to see a man shrouded in a black outfit that made him look fit for a stealth operation. He removed his cowl to reveal a startlingly pale man with shiny, black hair that reminded Leon of a raven. His eyes, he kept covered with a black bandage. He looked like the perfect killing machine, and in his hand, he clutched Leon's weapon. The fiend taunted him silently and pitched the blade over the edge of the postern.

"Some women get all the cute ones," came another, distinctly female, voice. Leon turned again to see an exceptionally attractive woman with hair perfectly white. Her upper body was covered only with a piece of green cloth to cover her chest. Her arms were covered with long, green gloves, and her legs were concealed behind baggy green pants and black combat boots.

"I'll take her then, shall I?" a jovial man garbed in white suggested, grasping Anna gently by the arm and escorting her out of the castle.

"Your father was a great man, Anna!" Leon shouted after her, as it was the only thing he could think to say.

"Don't patronize the poor girl, you cad!" the red one snapped as they began to close in on him.

"Joy!" came a nasally voice from where Leon couldn't see. "I wanna see this!"

Defenseless, Leon could almost see himself being thrashed and left for dead by the creatures. As he lay, broken, on the ground, he could only stare at the sky in bewilderment and realization. It was happening.

Tartarus glanced over the icon in wonderment. He couldn't imagine how something so small could possibly begin the Great Journey. Still, he wasn't complaining, and he didn't make the rules. He looked ahead again and continued his march to the activation room.

"I must admit," the Oracle buzzed, "I do not concur with your manner of implicating protocol, but I am quite excited to see procedure followed through at last."

"Silence, you miserable machine," Tartarus growled, annoyed by the constant droning of the "holy" Oracle.

"Please, Tartarus," Truth spoke, "We must bear with our holy ally, at least until we have begun. Remember, he won't be coming with us on our journey." At this, Tartarus smiled and pressed on, his Brutes behind him, and all eager to flee from this oppressive place.

As they reached the chamber, everyone spread out, ready for the spectacle. With a sudden rush of disbelief, Tartarus looked at the icon and then at its future resting place.

"Come now, Chieftain," Truth insisted, coming to his side, "Surely, you aren't getting cold feet now?"

"No!" Tartarus barked, scared of what people would say if that were the case. Then, he remembered whom he was talking to. "No," he repeated with more respect. "No, noble prophet. I am simply awe-struck at this, our moment of salvation."

"Understandably so," Truth responded, stroking his beard. "As we all are. However, time waits for no one, Brute, Jackal, or even Hierarch. For our sakes, forget your apprehension and send us home."

"I'm sorry to say that you are not meant for this task," the Oracle hummed. "Procedure will not allow it."

"Procedure matters nothing to us, anymore, holy Oracle," Truth responded. He patted Tartarus on the shoulder and said, "Go, Chieftain."

Tartarus nodded and stepped towards the console, ready to put the icon in its place…

…And it splintered in his hand.

He turned in fury to see who would dare to disgrace the Covenant and saw Truth, his head sagged. Dead.

From behind Truth, a young human with brown hair walked behind a weasel of a creature, who floated above the ground and enveloped the both of them in a blue, transparent shield. Try as they might, even the strength of the Brutes couldn't break through the force field. As they came closer to Tartarus, more creatures filed in behind them, repelling any Brutes that dared oppose them. Finally, the female and her companion reached him, and the field dropped. The scrawny one left, leaving Tartarus staring into the eyes of the woman.

"You have inhibited our Great Journey," he snarled, "and you have murdered our last Prophet. I will have your head!" At this he raised his mighty hammer and brought it down…

…Only to have it intercepted.

He watched in annoyance as a mutated, red human grabbed his hammer and fought against him. But this wasn't possible. Only the demon had been anywhere close to the strength of a Brute.

"What you _will_ do is listen to what your new leader has to say," the beast snarled over the pole of the hammer. "Or you _will_ suffer the consequences."

"And what's to make me?"

As he said this, he noticed that another human, clad in black, raised a menacing knife to his throat.

"I would suggest that you calm yourself," the red one smirked, "And the rest of your Brutes."

Tartarus trembled with rage, but finally barked something to his companions and lowered his weapon.

The female stepped into the center of the room and spoke. "Contrary to what you may believe, your Great Journey will be your journey into death. If you activate Halo, you will all be destroyed."

As Anna expected, there was uproar amongst the Brutes. "Ask your Oracle!" she shouted.

"Indeed," the Oracle answered. "The installations are weapons of last resort, built by the Forerunners to eliminate potential Flood hosts, thereby rendering the parasite harmless."

"That means you," Anna spoke. Many of the Brutes calmed down, disgusted, scared, or confused, while some still talked amongst themselves.

"But there is another key out there," she continued. "One that causes great and terrible destruction. This key can lead you to a true salvation. I want this key, and I'm sure you want this key. But I can promise you that neither of us can do it alone. You see my power, but it is nothing without you. I know your power, but you can go nowhere without my knowledge.

"And so, I ask you, true, loyal members of the Covenant, to join me, and together, we will uncover the true path to salvation."

There was silence as Tartarus mulled this over. He looked over his Brutes, the new creatures, and the Oracle. Finally, he sank to a knee and said, "What would you have your Chieftain do?"

At this, there was a load roar of strength and approval from the Brutes. Tartarus still had some doubt, but if this human spoke the truth, she had saved all of their lives, and they were eternally indebted to her. The Brutes poured out of the chamber after her and her beasts, leaving the Oracle on its own.

"My, my," it whirred. "They are a boisterous bunch."


	2. Chapter 2

**Two**

It had been raining in Gotham for nearly a week now. This city, eternally shrouded in the darkness of crime lords and homicidal maniacs, was no place to be homeless in. Gotham City in the rain wasn't any better. Such was the case of Vicus Manĝegi. For as long as he could remember, Vicus had roamed the streets of Gotham, finding odd jobs to help make some money. It was never enough to be considered a living, but it usually kept his hair short and white, his skin clean and fresh, his clothing its original color, and his hunger at bay. Were he lucky enough to have enough left over, he would buy some new article of clothing when his regular apparel was getting small or unacceptably tattered. Still, try as he might, he couldn't hide the fact that he was a common street urchin, fifteen years strong.

Of course, it could've been worse. He could've been alone on the streets. But there was always Embassy Alley, shielded from the rain by the canopies of surrounding buildings and proclaimed along the streets as a safe haven for the less-than-fortunate population or lost or imperiled citizen. The latter didn't come around often, but whoever it was, they merely needed to look for Isitaladi Ketta's neon green and blue spray painting, declaring simply, "Embassy Alley".

Isitaladi Ketta was one of Vicus' many friends at Embassy Alley. Few people knew how to pronounce her rather long first name, so most referred to her by her surname. Behind her black and white, grimy apparel and grubby beanie cap, she was a very beautiful girl with long, platinum blonde hair and a stern, albeit filthy, face. Inside, she was filled with a great deal of despair and distrust towards anyone outside of the alley. So, she worked as an advertiser for a local bar and restaurant by the name of the Hip Hog. Her boss paid in good money, and it was the only job she needed; desolate and involving her natural talent as an artist.

Rua Topo, another of Vicus' peers, worked where he could to fix all things technical. Somewhere along the lines, he had picked up a knack for putting things together and taking them apart. He had even managed to get the alley a TV working. What he didn't tell most people, however, was that he had pilfered the tube from a local appliance store. Where he had a skill for good, he had an innate capability for theft. He never did tell anyone other than Vicus and Ketta.

And, of course, there was always Batman. Batman, whom every villain feared. Batman, who was everybody's protector.

Batman who had up and disappeared without a word.

With that in mind, the crime rate in the city had boosted in the last few weeks. While the police could keep some of the criminals at bay, the worst wouldn't fear Gotham's "finest" if the city had given them tanks. So, lately, Vicus had tried to stay home or close to it as often as possible.

"Anyone else besides me bored out of their skull?" Rua sighed, sprawled out over his favorite old mattress and running a hand through his shabby brown hair.

"You might consider taking up painting," Ketta answered, deeply focused on her latest mural. She turned to him, smiled, and tossed him a can of paint.

"Gee, thanks," he answered, "but some of us aren't so comfortable with dangerous substances."

"You deal in hardware," Vicus smirked, "and you're scared of spray paint?"

"Not scared," Rua demanded, matter-of-factly, "concerned for the well-being of myself and others."

"Mostly yourself," Ketta finished for him.

"This double-teaming thing needs to stop," Topo demanded, pointing a finger at both of them.

"When you make an honest name for yourself, maybe," a gruff voice spoke from behind him. A man stepped into view, enormous and battle-hardened. His skin was dark, his arms nearly as wide as Rua himself, and his right hand made of solid metal.

"I believe one of the three of us sculpted that fine hand of yours, Barret, but I'm not naming names," Rua smiled.

"And I'm still returning the favor," the big man smiled back. In his left arm, he clutched a large sack, which he threw on top of Rua.

"Sweet!" Vicus laughed, snatching the bag up before Rua could get his weaselly hands in it. He dug through it and took everything out, item by item. "How much do we owe you?" Vicus asked, seriously.

"I'm feelin' generous today," Barret responded, "So, this one's on me."

"C'mon," Ketta demanded, hands on her hips. "This can't be free."

"Nah," he insisted, "I mean it. And don't push me or I might change my mind."

"I'm not complaining," Rua spoke, throwing the bag Ketta's way.

"Oh, I know _you're_ not," Barret frowned. That kid was _such_ a little weasel.

"We owe you one, Barret," Vicus smiled, clapping a hand on one of Barret's massive arms.

"No, you don't," Barret insisted, ruffling Vicus' bright white head with a fist about its size. He then looked at the other two and said, "See ya'll around." With that, he left.

"Why can't we live with Barret?" Rua queried, his mouth full of sandwich.

"He doesn't have the biggest house in the world," Ketta answered, searching through her own unmentionable, personal items. "And he already has one little kid to take care of."

"I won't pike this continuation," he spluttered in response.

"I rest my case," she answered, picking up her own sandwich.

Vicus couldn't help but ogle at Ketta's latest artwork. Thus far, it was a giant, shiny heart with a keyhole positioned in the center. While not yet finished, Vicus could see the beginnings of a pair of strange creatures seeming to vie for the keyhole. He couldn't, for the life of him, figure out what it meant, but something about it screamed to his subconscious.

"I don't get it, either," Ketta spoke, as if reading his mind. "It's just something I was feeling."

"You and your premonitions," Rua scoffed.

"Not premonitions," Vicus insisted. Then he changed his tone. He couldn't be sure after all. "Right?" he asked Ketta. She merely shrugged and continued eating.

"Whatever," Rua sighed, reaching for his soda and two bags of chips. For such a scrawny little sneak, he could eat.

In spite of his friend's ruthless attacking of more than his fair share, Vicus grabbed up what food was left and replaced it in the sack. Puzzled, Ketta and Rua looked at him as he lifted it, stood, and proceeded to make his way down Embassy Alley, handing out food to a number of people and leaving more at some of the "homes" whose occupants weren't around. Rua let his mouth drop open and stared at Ketta. She merely shrugged again, this time with a slight grin on her face. Vicus returned to his place and smiled at Rua smugly, who finally smiled back. Soon, they all began to laugh at this until Vicus finally pushed his second sandwich and his chips and soda towards his friends.

Surprisingly, Rua asked, "You sure?"

"Yep," Vicus answered, stretching his back. _Un_surprisingly, Rua snatched up the food without another word. Vicus smiled at Ketta and walked away to his bed, which was more of a sheet and a pillow on the ground.

"Good guy," Rua said, looking over his shoulder as his friend went to sleep.

Vicus woke to find himself being shaken in the middle of the night. It was Rua, demanding him to wake up. Something about something important.

As he followed Rua, he eventually came up on Barret and Ketta.

"Barret?" Vicus asked, sleepily.

"No time, little man," Barret insisted, "I've got a job for you guys. It should pay some good munny."

"Is it Krew?" Ketta asked. Barret worked for the same boss as she did.

Barret bit his lip and said, "No time. Let's go."

Vicus was disturbed by Barret's behavior, but he complied, as did Rua and Ketta. They followed him to a truck that seemed fit for a delivery. Barret beckoned for them to climb into the back.

"Sorry, guys," he spoke, "There's just not enough room in the cab."

This was peculiar, as there was probably plenty of room in the cab. Still, there was more back here than up there. Yawning, Vicus climbed in with his friends and Barret brought the door down.

He knocked on the back and asked, "You guys all set?" Rua knocked back in affirmation. "There's a switch back there if you guys want some light." After much blind prodding, they found it and shielded their eyes as the sudden light hit them with a stinging blow. Surprisingly, though less than noticeably, the truck was empty.

"What's up with Barret?" Rua scoffed, taking a seat.

"He does seem a bit iffy," Vicus concurred, laying back on the floor.

"Krew's funny that way," Ketta assured them. "He's a bit suspicious, but he pays well enough for us not to ask questions. We just do our jobs, get paid, and go home. He's given me a gun before and told me to go tag some weird place. He gave me a bonus if I promised not to say a word. Nothing happened, but still."

"You don't ever do any prying?" Rua queried.

"Not a good idea," Ketta chuckled. "Even if Krew didn't have a bucket load of dirty minions, he keeps most of his stuff locked tight. And even if he didn't, he _is _my boss."

"Alright," Rua sighed, turning his cap the right way and tipping the bill over his eyes. "I get it."

"Besides," Vicus began, closing his eyes, "Not all of us are dirty thieves." He laughed to himself at this.

"I resent that remark," Rua snorted in response. Before they could say anymore, he had already passed out. Vicus followed suit, and soon, so did Ketta.

They awoke once again, Barret rapping on the door with his metal hand to ensure that they woke up.

"Nothing merits this kind of behavior," Rua groaned, adjusting his hat back to its normal position. Barret opened the door, and they all piled out, stretching and yawning.

"C'mon guys," Barret spoke, ushering them towards a gap between two buildings.

As they made it out, they were hit by another wave of light. All around them, buildings rose high into the sky, while others squatted low to the ground. Such was the case of the Hip Hog; a seemingly well kept building with lights shining from the top and the windows. Apparently, this place rarely slept, much like the rest of this downtown district.

They stepped through the double doors at the front and were instantly hit by a perfectly warmed air that carried with it the scent of cigarette smoke.

"Welcome back, Barret," a morbidly obese creature floating above the stylish carpet spoke. He glared at the three young people, noticed Ketta and said, with a raspy, accented voice "And my dear girl, Isitaladi. Where would this business be without those fine tags across the city, eh?" Ketta actually blushed with pride.

"You called, boss?" Barret insisted.

"Yes, yes, yes, dear boy," Krew answered, "But allow me to get acquainted with my new employees, eh?" He hovered close to Rua and Vicus, who put out their hands. He merely looked them over and nodded. "Yes, well. They look fine to me. Now then, to business, shall we?" Rua and Vicus looked at each other and shrugged as Krew drifted away.

"Yes, business," he said again. "I have some friends in a bar on the other side of the downtown district, and they're doing a job for me as well. However, they require a little item to complete the job. All I really need is to have it delivered safely to their little establishment. Just be there to provide a little extra muscle and to see to it that it stays secure in the back of the truck. Sounds simple enough, eh?"

"How much extra muscle are we talkin' here?" Barret inquired.

"Oh, not much, not much," Krew maintained. "It's just a small box in the back. I've taken the liberty of applying some directions to the crate, so your job should be fairly easy.

"Still, you never can be too sure, so…" With this, he guided them to a large metal case that sat against a wall. He inserted a key into its lock and opened it, revealing a great assortment of weapons.

"Some of these may be a bit too hefty for the likes of you, so I've taken a few out and left them on the inside of the door there."

"C'mon, Krew," Barret hissed to his employer so as not to let the other three hear. "Don't give the kids weapons. There's no need for it."

"A business tycoon can never be certain," Krew dismissed him. "You never know who might be waiting to steal your merchandise. Besides, I'm paying them extra for this. I doubt a little personal ordinance will hurt."

There were three weapons in the door. One was a red sword of interesting shape that curved downward at the point into a massive hook that stayed close to the rest of the blade. It was labeled "Blitz Blade". Another was a large pistol with a few clips next to it that radiated with a fluorescent blue light. A tag under it read "Mana Magnum". The final weapon was a long, thin piece of metal labeled "Force Pike", swaying away from the alliteration the other two seemed to prefer. Vicus opted for the sword, as it was simple enough to figure out and handle. Rua chose the pike, ever intrigued by new and unusual pieces of equipment, and Ketta was left with the magnum. Besides, she was the only one of them that had ever even held a gun.

"It's simple, really," Krew was telling Rua. "Flip the switch and don't touch anything but the handle." He looked at Ketta, then to Vicus. "As for you two, I think your weapons are even simpler to understand, eh?" They nodded in approval.

"Alrighty, then, my little street urchins," Krew finished, "do your jobs and you get your munny. Do them well, and I'll let you keep the weapons. Fair deal from a fair man, yes?" The three looked at each other, then back at Krew and nodded, much to Barret's chagrin. "Very well. The package is in the back. You should have a clear path to the back alley from there." With that, he floated away, tabulating a list of figures.

They moved into the back warehouse, where they found an enormous box that they assumed was their delivery. They confirmed this, and Barret scoffed both at himself and at Krew. With great caution and force, the four of them hefted the luggage above the ground as far as they could and moved it slowly out the back door. As they reached the outside, they had to put it down and catch their breaths, then somehow managed to heft the thing into the back of the truck. Barret then closed the door and rapped on it. Rua knocked back and Barret returned to the cab. Vicus sat himself up between the box and the door, and Rua and Ketta took up the sides. They couldn't imagine how something this ridiculously large could move anywhere, but they were too fascinated by their weapons to take the risk.

"You think Krew was really worried about thieves?" Vicus queried, running his thumb across the edge of his rather large sword.

"Authorities, I think," Ketta murmured, flipping the safety on and off her gun.

"You think we're working for a crime lord?" Rua frowned, debating whether or not to turn his pike on. "And you didn't tell us?"

"Krew's weird, I'm telling you," Ketta murmured. "Still, he _is _paying."

The ride was smooth and they reached their destination in a relatively short period of time, all things considered.

Barret pulled up to the front, where a man stood, seemingly impatient, but good-natured. He was pushing elderly, his hair fully white and his face not just beginning to show signs of wrinkles. His clothing, while simplistic, probably cost more than Barret himself. In his hand, he clutched an umbrella and he wore a black coat and hat to keep himself from the rain.

"'Bout time," he spoke over the shower with a thick Italian accent. "Didn't make much sense for Krew to deliver this late a' night."

"He has his ways, I guess," Barret answered.

"That's the truth," the man chuckled. "Take it through the back there. Paulie and Sam'll give ya' a hand unloadin' the thing." Barret nodded and proceeded through an open red gate into a back lot. In here, there were several old cars waiting to be rehabilitated or were back in full splendor.

"Good timin'," another predominantly Italian spoke sarcastically, coming up to the truck. He was well built, his hair black and slick. His suit had a purple hint to it, and he wore a gray hat. Another man stood next to him, plump, with a blue suit. He spoke nothing.

"It's in the back," Barret said, switching off the engine and getting out. Upon opening it, the man in purple drew a gun and pointed right at Vicus.

"Whaddya tryin' to pull?" he demanded, gun raised. Vicus had seen bluffs before, but something told him that this man was very, very serious.

"They're with Krew! They're with Krew!" Barret shouted, beginning to panic. He would've killed the man under normal circumstances, but he was in their territory now, and too concerned for the children's safety to be a good fighter.

"The hell you talkin' about?" purple snapped, not looking away from Vicus. "They're kids!"

"Relax, Paulie," the man from the front spoke. "Put the gun down. If Barret here says they're with Krew, I'll believe 'em." He smiled a warming smile. Vicus wondered very much how the man could smile at a time like this. Still, it saved him from having to draw his sword and be inevitably shot.

The six of them unloaded the package easier than they had loaded it, and the headman thanked him for their cooperation.

"Sorry about Paulie," he chuckled. There it was again, unblinking optimism. "He's a bit hotheaded, but he's a good kid." He turned to Ketta, "and thank you for not shooting." Ketta clicked the safety back into place. This man was sharp. He looked back at Barret. "Remember, the Salieri family sends their regards."

"Same to you, Mr. Salieri," Barret answered, shaking his hand. After that, the man went back inside. Barret turned to the three of them. "Sorry about that, guys," he sighed, then smiled. "You can turn your pike off, now, kid." As they listened carefully, there was a faint hum just barely audible over the rain.

"Oh," Rua managed to laugh. "Yeah."

Vicus awoke the next morning, but barely. He was a bit stiff from his exertions last night, not to mention his lack of sleep. As he opened his eyes, he noticed that nobody was around. Instead, they were all crowded in one place: around the TV. Surely, not everyone cared that much about the same thing…

…Right?

"What's goin' on?" Vicus whispered as he found Rua and Ketta.

"Joker's out," Rua muttered, chewing on his glove.

"Again?" Vicus gasped. He was always a big deal, and with Batman gone, he'd be even worse.

"Not just that," Ketta responded. "Whoever busted him out did a number on Arkham. He's not the only one out, and it'll be some time before they can put anyone anywhere in the asylum." Vicus' breath was stolen. He had to watch.

"Arson investigators discovered traces of a very large, very well-built bomb that was, apparently, powerful enough to decimate nearly the entire east wing of Arkham Asylum," the reporter said,"but placed so as not to harm the Joker, specifically. Police are still speculating, but speculation is that it was an inside job performed around three-fifteen last night.

"Commissioner Gordon recommends that nobody leave their house unless it is an absolute emergency," she continued. "Lock your doors and your windows, and be sure to be in your homes by nightfall. Darla Gratch, GCN News."

Vicus didn't like the sound of this. He liked even less the inkling that he might have something to do with this.

The Joker had lost his name some time ago. He liked to convince himself that it had become obsolete and he had thrown it out. Still, he didn't care. The poor bum digging around in the dump could have it. Now, he was simply the Joker, and he liked the nice little ring to that, ominous, but with a hint of saffron.

He didn't even know what that was.

He straightened his tie, a tad annoyed that he had to dress in blue and white, and flipped a quarter to the now dead clerk.

"I owe you one, my good man," he smirked, then laughed as he nearly danced out of the store. No matter how many times he busted out of that wretched place, it never ceased to be oh so very satisfying. Then he noticed something and his smile faded.

"Batweasel's not here," he sighed. "Where's the fun in that?" He sat on a bench outside, scratching his prominent chin, ignoring any frightened, stupefied pedestrian that passed by. "How can a simple, finely garbed mental like myself have a bit of fun in this half-horse town?" He thought some more.

"Maybe we can help," he heard a voice say in his head.

"Well, well," he smiled, "at least I have a new alibi." He laughed hard at this.

From what seemed like nowhere, a peculiar beast rose from the ground, twitchy and garbed in white.

"I mean it," it spoke, again in his head. "The capacity for any mental reasoning seems to have dissipated some time ago."

"I see what you're saying!" Joker smiled, raising a finger. He then dropped it and looked at the creature. "As a matter of fact, no, I don't." He doubled over laughing.

"You're almost a completely empty shell of a man."

"You know, I've been telling the gents down at the Wonka's that for years. They still can't decide on a filling."

"We have power, Joker," it responded. This stopped his maniacal laughter.

"You've got my ear," Joker smiled, "In fact, you've got them both."

"We're not so different, you and I," the beast continued, seeming to float back and forth along the ground. "We're both empty shells, dancing about for a purpose. The only thing really difference is the fact that you can be independent as you please. For something of a year, now, we've been flitting about, useless in the void of time and space. No one to command us. Then, we found you. Insane, incomplete you. You want the power, Joker. We can give you the power, if you will just lead us."

"I've never been one for commanding armies," the Joker dismissed, folding his arms, crossing his legs, and turning his nose up. The creature sighed and began to leave when he turned back and answered, "But I do like the way you dress. Snazzy, yet somewhat casual. Who's you're tailor?"

"You agree then?"

"Why not?" he jumped up and hugged the little dickens, rubbing its smooth head. "Now, I simply must meet the family!"

Meanwhile, Gotham had another problem on its hands. In the downtown district, strange, black creatures seemed to appear from the ground the citizens walked on, creating a hostile troop of belligerent little insects. Those unfortunate enough to be maimed by them simply disappeared into nothingness.

Barret, who had shown up for work as usual, had found that Krew had mysteriously left. Then, when the creatures attacked, he joined the fight. But it seemed they were doing nothing, police and himself alike.

"You got good timin', Mac," a hefty cop Barret recognized as Flass shouted over the panic. "Just stay close to me. I'll give ya' some cover." At this, he promptly squatted behind his car door. Barret sighed and removed his metal hand, clipping it to his belt. He grabbed its replacement; a circular piece of metal lined with long shafts, and stuck it on. He gave it a quick spin for reassurance, and inserted a clip into his forearm. With that, his mind became quickly connected with the attachment, and he could tell it to…

"Fire!" came a cry throughout the alley. Whoever the poor soul was, he was doing little more than stating the obvious. There was a fire, not enormous, yet, but impending. The worst part about it was that nobody could figure out how it had started, other than somebody had run by the alley and dropped something in the garbage. All they could figure was that one of the escapees of Arkham had been a pyromaniac and had decided to start their career again. So, everyone did the best that they could, trying to smother it or slather the wet mud on it.

"Any ideas?" Vicus shouted above the panic.

"You think _I_ started this?" Rua snapped, flinging as much mud as he could.

"Would you stop being so paranoid!" Ketta roared. Then, as they pressed on, something hit her. "My paints!" she cried.

"Slightly more pressing matters at hand, here, Ketta!" Rua demanded.

"No, if they catch fire, they'll explode and people could get hurt!" With that, she turned on a heel and ran towards them.

In the midst of the panic, she didn't stop to realize how close they were to their station. More importantly, how close they were to her paints. Her many, many paints.

How close the fire was to her paints.

Vicus caught it, but too late.

"Ketta, no!" he shouted, bounding towards her. Before he could take more than three strides, the cans erupted…

…And froze in midair.

As did the fire. And the people. And eventhe insects in the air.

He didn't say anything. He couldn't say anything.

"If you had the choice," a voice said from behind him, "Would you change something horrible into something incredible?" Vicus turned to see a young woman, around his own age, dressed in a white gown, her blonde hair down past her shoulders.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Vicus asked, angry and confused. "What's going on?"

"You're a good kid, Vicus," she said, "Which is why I wish this hadn't come to you. It just seems like bad things happen to good people all the time." She raised her hand. "But you can take something horrible and make it into something good. I deliver you a gift from the void, a land I've been sort've floating in with the rest of my family for two long years." The realm of existence went dark. Everything, from the ground to the sky turned black. Vicus felt himself getting woozy. His sword, still strapped to his belt from last night, left his waist and plunged into the ground, sinking farther and farther with each passing second.

Then, he collapsed.

As his vision returned, he realized that he was back in the alley. Everything was still the same, save for one small detail.

In his hand, he clutched the hilt of what felt to be a sword. When his eyes were functioning properly, he noticed that it was made very differently. The hilt had a green, metallic hand guard, but it was shaped like a square, an entire square, all around the handle. The blade was of pure crystal, but not sharp like a normal sword. It was perfectly smooth, and cylindrical. At the flattened top, it dipped in a bit, and jutting out from the side were what seemed to be barbs, only they were flat and square. Virtually useless, unless…

"Is this a key?" Vicus asked, skeptical.

"_The_ key," the girl answered. She walked over to Ketta and pushed her floating body towards Vicus. "She's very pretty," she said, finally pushing her into Vicus' body. Then she looked down at the key. "Make it count," she said. At that, she vanished, and time resumed as if nothing had happened.

Vicus collapsed under Ketta's weight. She pushed herself up and realized that she was right above him

"You move fast," she stammered through the embarrassment. She got up and dusted herself off; not much in the grand scheme of things. As Vicus shook the previous occurrence off, he noticed something odd. He looked at Ketta's painting, which should've been a miserable mess after that explosion, and, indeed, the area _around_ it was. The painting itself, though, was finished, as if Ketta herself had done it.

"C'mon!" she shouted, moving to put out the blaze. Vicus stepped over to her and turned her head towards the mural. She stopped, dumbfounded.

"It's just like I pictured it," she breathed.

Atop the heart rested a great city, Gotham City. The keyhole had complete depth, as though it were a real hole. The beasts fighting on it were a white, spectral being and a thin, black, soulless insect.

On the other end of town, the ambassador to the Joker and the rest of the insanely named crew turned their heads to the west, as though they smelled something particularly tasty.

"You all disturb me," Joker spoke. Then, as though it dwelled in his virtually inexistent heart, he could almost feel what it was. He closed his eyes and let the voices of his soldiers scream in his head. Something about their goal, the thing that must be taken, the Great Alleviation. He was suddenly familiar with something, and he didn't even know what it was.

"Show me," he spoke.

Barret and Flass backed against a wall, surrounded by the little minions and larger, tougher versions of them.

"I know I don't know ya' very well, Barret," Flass stammered, "But it's been nice knowin' ya." Barret said nothing, but tried his best to assess the situation.

Then, they all turned their heads in unison, like a congregation of little evil bloodhounds. They raised their heads to the sky, seemed to sniff the air for a moment, then bolted towards something to the west.

"'S what I thought," Flass snorted when they were out of range.

"They're leavin'," Barret said, "But they're not."

"Don't follow," Flass replied curtly, putting away his gun. Barret said nothing, but ran after them. Flass scoffed and placed a toothpick in his mouth.

"Ain't that great?" someone in the alley stammered when they had almost put the who fire out. Everyone looked towards him and stopped in their tracks. In front of them lay an army of little black monsters with bulbous, yellow eyes. They looked towards something, something they couldn't seem to find. Then, they charged…

…and were flattened by an enormous pillar.

No one cheered, but instead, gawked as the giant thing began to split into several thin, white creatures that bounded down the alley, taking down anyone they could as they pressed forward towards what seemed like nothing in particular. As they cleared, those left could see none other than the Joker standing in front of them, a crazed grin on his face.

"We've gotta fight him!" Rua insisted.

"Are you crazy?" Ketta nearly sobbed. "He'll murder us!"

"No," Vicus murmured, a thought bubbling in his head. Suddenly, he looked down at the key in his hands and felt very, very stupid. He bounded after the charging white creatures without a word.

"Where'd he get a big key?" Rua queried.

Barret could only look in horror as the alley was being destroyed. He had to get in an find the kids. He had to save them.

"Well, well," a maniacal voice spoke to him, "Aren't we the beefy cliché of the century?" Barret looked the Joker in the eyes, trying to look as fearless as possible. But there was something about his maniacal grin that took the guts out of even someone as mighty as Barret. He rushed the madman, flinging a powerful punch with his metal arm that could kill any normal man. The Joker was quicker than he let off, and he dodged the blow, his wicked smile always shining, and grasped Barret's arm. In a flash, he placed his other hand on the gun, and Barret was hit with a wave of paralyzing pain. When it was over, he could smell himself burning as he hit the ground, barely hanging on.

Vicus did what he could to hack through the beasts, trying to get to the painting before they could. The closer he got,the brighter his sword became.After a moment, he reached it…

…And watched in horror as one of them burrowed into the keyhole.

In nothing flat, the ground began to rupture. He lost the will to continue and fell to his knees as more entered the hole greedily. The cracks in the ground got bigger and began to pour out red light. They reached up the walls and even into the sky, always growing.

"Vicus!" Ketta cried, running up to him and grabbing his arm. Rua soon reached him as well and tried to help.

"Time to go, man," he coaxed, trying his best. Vicus wouldn't budge.

"Where?" Vicus chuckled in sorrow.

With the sound of a great hurricane, Gotham city exploded into nothingness.

"You know what they say," the Joker said to no one in particular as the remainder of his minions hovered away from the destruction in their massive flagship. "If you're going to go out, go out with a bang!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Three**

There was little for Vicus to do but think. Of course, in his current state, there was little to think about. He was lost in the void of his own mind, too unaware to even realize his surroundings, otherwise known as a big swirling mass of nothingness. All that he could think was, "Where?" Not the where as in "Where am I?" but the where as in, "Where are we going to run?" The last thought on his mind.

"Puzzling," a whirring voice spoke through the cloud in his mind.

"Indeed," another hummed.

"Surely, one of the other keymasters must be ready by now," yet another buzzed, "This Reclaimer is not fit for such a large task."

"But we have been unable to reach any of them," the second responded. "One is constantly busy, and the others seem to always be out of our effective hailing range."

"Yes," the first said, "this one we have traced, and the probability of his leaving the E.H.R. is approximately one in two-thousand, four hundred sixty-nine."

"I love those odds," the third chuckled with glee.

"So it is agreed, then?" number two questioned. "We go after this particular keymaster and have him activate Installation 03?"

"Quite so," three answered.

"Indeed," one spoke.

"Well then," two finished, "Let's snap to it, shall we?"

Vicus woke suddenly at this thought, gasping for breath. He couldn't understand why he needed to suck in so much wind, he just did. It was like a nightmare so terrifying the mind only recalls the level of horror, not the details. Vicus couldn't say what he'd just heard was terrifying. More ominous, really, and very vague as of now.

"You're awake," someone spoke to him from his front. He couldn't see whomever it was, as whomever it was was to the side of the bars. Yes, indeed. Vicus was in a jail cell.

"Captain said to look after you while you were out and tell her when you moved," the person spoke again, moving into view. He was not much older or taller than Vicus himself, and almost as ratty. He wore a dark brown jacket with a greenish undershirt and brown pants. His hair was brown, short, and finely parted down the middle, a style that seemed natural. The hair running down his neck was short, though it branched of into a shabby, tied ponytail. "But I'm curious. Care to spin me a yarn?"

"I'm not really in the talking mood," Vicus sighed, bringing his knees up to his chin.

"Fair enough," the young man answered, spinning his chair around to face him and reclining precariously. He looked Vicus down for a moment before leaning forward and sticking his hand through the bars. "Jim Hawkins," he spoke. Vicus looked at the hand then at Jim's face, which was in a warming grin.

"Vicus Manĝegi," he answered, taking the hand.

"Well, we've passed square one," Jim chuckled. "Wanna tell me where you're from?"

"Somewhere that probably doesn't exist anymore," Vicus sighed again, repositioning himself to the foot of the bed and running his hands over his face, as if to clear his mind.

"You too, huh?"

"You're home was blown to pieces?"

"Nah," Jim replied, "Not mine, but we've been picking up a bunch of weirdoes lately from the middle of nowhere, usually in big debris fields. They pretty much claim the same thing as you. You, on the other hand, we found floating with absolutely nothing around for kilometers. There's no telling how long you were floating."

"So, I've been unconscious for nobody knows how long in the middle of nowhere, basically?"

"Basically," Jim answered, reclining again.

Vicus put his hand on his chin and thought. How long had he been out? Where had he been? Where were…

"You haven't picked up a couple of other kids our age, have you?" Vicus queried. "They'd be about as tattered as me. One's a really skinny kid with brown hair and the other's a girl with blonde hair."

Jim thought for a moment. "Not that I can remember. Of course, I haven't seen 'em all. They just figured I could get some information out of you, being as though we're not that different, age-wise." He looked at Vicus and noticed his disappointed look. "C'mon," Jim finished, unlocking the cell. "We can go look." He gave Vicus a set of folded clothes. "Captain said to get washed up when you were awake and put these on."

He pointed Vicus in the direction of the showers and left him be. Vicus was more than happy that there was no one else here. Granted, they had curtains, but there was still something peculiar and unsettling about another naked whatever in the same bathroom as he.

The shower was perfectly hot and seemed to go on forever. Whenever Vicus could find the time to shower up before, he never did have much time before the hot water ran out. This was almost perpetual. Then it went cold, and he felt bad for using it all up. He threw his new clothes on; a black vest and a sleeveless white undershirt with khaki cargoes and black shoes. He took a look at his old outfit and nearly winced. His old grey pants had been another color some time ago, but years of wear had bleached them naturally beyond whatever a washer could fix. His black shirt was torn in several places and smelled a bit odd, and his shoes were all bent out of shape with frayed laces. It was agreed, his new outfit was much nicer. He wasted no time in throwing the miserable mess in the garbage.

He found his way to the deck and was astounded. Where he was used to a sky and solid or liquid ground, there was only an open space of swirling matter, like the sky had melded with the sea. Was this where he had been for so long?

Then there was the deck itself. It spanned a great area and teemed with all sorts of life. Deckhands paced the floor searching for something to do, while simple civilians of all shapes and sizes relaxed or took in the view. Vicus couldn't imagine how some of them simply got over the loss of their homes enough to look at some stars, then remembered that he was lost in the sight along with them.

"Ya best be movin', lad," a raspy, Irish voice boomed next to him. Vicus nearly jumped out of his skin to see the man, a hefty creature with robotic appendages and a peculiar eyeball. "Ya never know exactly who might be comin' yer way." He smiled a wry smile that made Vicus uncomfortable enough to comply. He stumbled away as the cyborg moved on laughing to himself.

"Like it, huh?" Jim smiled, placing a hand on his shoulder, startling him again.

"Yeah," Vicus breathed, regaining his composure. He looked at the cyborg again, who was discussing something with a lobster-like creature. "Who's…?"

"Silver?" Jim asked. "He's an odd one. Not bad, necessarily, just real suspicious."

The cyborg looked their way, looked away, then looked back and waved. "'Oy, Jimbo!"

Jim waved back with an awkward smile.Vicus could tell thatJim both liked Silver and distrusted him. Vicus was wholly the latter, but he hadn't met the man, and couldn't tell.

"That's a troublesome young one," Scroop growled as John Silver turned back to him. "And you seem to be goin' a tad soft."

"Now, don't you start that one!" Silver demanded, very offended. "You're talkin' to Long John Silver, here. Need I remind ya who's yer boss? Yer Captain?"

"Nay, Cap'n," Scroop hissed, raising his claws. "I'm just concerned for the well-bein' of this here mission o' ours, is all."

"You let me handle that," Silver spoke, shooting a glance towards Jim and his new friend. They were heading in the direction of the eccentric Doppler fellow. "Let me handle that."

"You, too, then?" Doppler queried, his hand on his chin, looking Vicus up and down. Vicus nodded. "I must say," Doppler continued, "I am quite curious about this whole world explosion ordeal. I, personally, haven't heard any personal accounts. Those go to the Captain. Care to elaborate?"

"Yes, please do," a female voice came from behind Vicus, sending a chill through his body again. He spun about to see who the woman was only to see a very tall, cat-like creature in a fine blue jacket, gold epilates, and high-topped boots. "After all, Doctor," she continued, "Why tell the _Legacy's _commanding officer? I'm only in charge here."

"Well, that's not what I meant, Captain, but…"

"Oh, stow it, man," she hissed, almost jokingly. She looked at Vicus. "Well, young man, I assume your story is the same as all the rest, evil creatures invading and a large explosion, fine, fine, fine. All I ask of you is that you repay our generosity by serving us when we need you."

Vicus got the message, but wasn't to keen on her very curt manner of speaking. "Aye, aye, Captain Ma'am," he shouted, making a very elaborate salutation. Jim and Doppler tried to stifle their laughter.

The Captain frowned, then smiled a bit. "At least you've got a personality," she responded. "But Captain Amelia will do, thank you."

"Vicus Manĝegi," Vicus responded.

"We're on the same wavelength, then, yes, Mr. Manĝegi?"

"Aye, aye," Vicus smiled, more seriously this time.

"Good boy," she spoke, standing straight and turning to Jim. "And Mr. Hawkins, I would greatly appreciate it if you did your assignment next time."

Jim wanted to hang his head, but not in front of the Captain. "Yes, ma'am," he spoke, trying not to sigh.

"Carry on then, all," she finished, walking away.

"Who knotted her underpants?" Vicus scoffed, leaning back on the railing.

"She's just like that," Jim answered.

"Very straight forward, I'm afraid," Doppler agreed. He was speaking to them, but he was still looking in Amelia's general direction. Jim and Vicus chuckled amongst themselves.

Later, as the two young men perched dangerously on the railing, their legs hanging over the edge, they began to talk. Jim seemed very interested in the fact that Vicus was from somewhere far away, so Vicus indulged him with the story of Gotham, up until its end.

"I came on this journey to see everything out there," Jim said, looking into the stars.

"Actually, that's only half true," he corrected himself. "Ya see, some fellow came to my mom's place looking for shelter from someone called 'The Cyborg'. He left a weird orb thing, and when we fiddled with it, it showed us a huge map that led to Treasure Planet, supposedly. Old Del couldn't contain himself, so he hired the crew of the _R.L.S. Legacy _to go after it."

"I suppose I'm lucky you did," Vicus breathed, still in a state of shock and awe.

They continued to look on until Silver approached them.

"Beautiful, ain't it?" he asked. By now, Vicus was used to people sneaking up on him.

"Yeah," Jim sighed in peace.

"Decades o' travelin' the stars and it never gets old on me," Silver continued, leaning over the edge with his hands and taking a breath of it.

"You've been doing this for a while, Silver?" Vicus asked, leaning past Jim to see Silver, making a note of Jim's explanation and Silver's various metal body parts.

"Aye," John answered. "Since I were younger than you are now."

"What keeps you coming back?" Jim questioned.

This seemed to make Silver a tad uncomfortable, though Vicus hardly noticed it.

"The freedom, I reckons," he answered, that same smile from earlier on his face. Cripes, it was creepy.

They sat there for a moment, ogling at the flowing space until Silver took note of something.

"'Ello?" he murmured, pointing it out to them. "Whaddya make o' 'dat?" Vicus and Jim looked at it, but could only tell that it was moving. Silver zoomed in on it with his eye and his jaw dropped. "Good criminy," he gasped. He dashed as fast as he could back towards the deck and a massive, red-clad first mate made of stone.

"''Oy, Arrow!" he shouted.

"Something the matter, Silver?" Arrow questioned, incredulously, ever calm.

"Yer darn right it is!" Silver insisted. "Better follow me!" Arrow complied, moving at a slightly faster pace. By the time they reached the railing again, Vicus and Jim had gotten off, clearly afraid. They peered over the edge...

…And were nearly decapitated by the oncoming swarm.

A wave of black creatures led by blue, winged beasts with fairly large muscles and rapiers flew into the air and began to land on the deck.

"That's them!" someone cried. "They destroyed our home!"

"That's right!" someone else agreed, searching for cover.

"No, they're not!" another, naysayer, argued.

"Those the guys?" Jim whispered to Vicus.

"No," Vicus whispered in return, "But they were there."

Then the beasts began to rush people. The deckhands seemed to be able to handle themselves, but most of the refugees were defenseless.

"Get the Captain," Arrow instructed Silver. Silver merely nodded, then transformed his bionic arm into a sinister looking blade and raced through the beasts, hewing through them with massive strokes.

Vicus felt defenseless, then felt a familiar piece of metal in his grip. He looked in his hand to find that his old crystal key was back. Jim, meanwhile, had drawn a pistol, but seemed to be waiting for something.

"I sincerely hope the both of you know how to use those," Arrow grumbled, cracking his knuckles. Without another word, he leapt onto one of the winged beasts and began to pummel it with his powerful, stony arms.

"I'll take it you do," Vicus said, running into the mass after a helpless child. Jim followed him, keeping any behind Vicus at bay with his gun. Vicus reached the child quickly, grabbed his hand, and helped him to his feet. Jim touched his shoulder, and he spun about to see that several of the creatures were beginning to head in their direction. Vicus hefted to boy onto his shoulders, but found it difficult to do much fighting with the extra weight.

Then Arrow plummeted from the air and crushed the majority of them. Those left he dispatched with an axe-handle smash on their tiny, insectoid heads.

"I'll take that," he said, effortlessly lifting the youngster onto one of his enormous shoulders and bounded away.

"You don't suppose you could spare a moment of cover for your old friend Delbert Doppler?" the Doctor shrieked, running up behind the two of them. Vicus and Jim looked at each other and rolled their eyes.

"Stay close, Del," Jim shouted back over the panic.

"We'll get you out of here," Vicus agreed. Jim reloaded his gun and blasted away at some of them, creating an opening for Vicus to exploit with his key. Delbert was handy enough for watching their backs, but was virtually useless otherwise. Still, it wasn't his fault.

As they reached the door to the lower levels, they were hit by another large clump of creatures. They readied themselves, then had the lot swept away by a huge arc from Silver's blade. Behind him stood the Captain, clutching a rifle.

"Well played, John Silver," she spoke. She looked down at the two young men. "Good to see someone else made it," she looked to Doppler. "And you as well, Doctor."

"Same to you," Delbert squeaked, "And I'd like to spend my living moments somewhere holed up."

Amelia rolled her eyes and jerked her head towards the door, an idea that he accepted whole-heartedly.

The battle continued for what seemed like an eternity, though in truth, it was a matter of minutes. Everywhere, the defenseless and wounded were moved into the lower levels. Those left to fight, however, weren't putting up a great deal of resistance.

"It's no use, Mr. Arrow!" Amelia spoke to her First Mate as they placed themselves back to back.

"Then we go down swinging, ma'am?" Arrow suggested.

"Aye!" she agreed. "It'll take hell _and _highwater for them to end us for good!" She raised her gun, then lowered it as she saw the most relieving sight she had ever seen. Across the ship everyone seemed to see it. None of the beasts took notice…

…Until the Phantom vaporized a number of them with a well-placed shot from its left plasma cannon.

From the bowels of the ship, a number of massive, reptilian beasts dropped onto the _Legacy_, wielding strange, rounded guns and spiny pieces of weaponry. Fourteen piled out, followed by a strange looking vehicle with a large turret, a cockpit, and two passenger seats hanging off the side. They moved into position as the Phantom's haul, a pair of ships that looked like tuning forks, opened up and dropped off a handful of small, turtle-like beasts and a pair of immeasurably enormous orange and blue beings. The lot of them opened a large hole in the mass of black beings. What nobody could've imagined was what they were opening it for.

"Everyone ready, then?" Half-Jaw asked from within his own Phantom. There was a loud, unified cry from his passengers at this, and he joined in as they dove forth into the opening.

One of the warriors, clad in brilliant white armor, dropped in first, unleashing a series of unstoppable slashes from his two-pronged weapon. Two of his four apparent jaws were brutally broken beyond repair. The next was another of the creatures, decked out in white armor trimmed with red. He unhooked a pair of the rounded guns from his waist, though his were red, and unloaded his own personal swarm of red devils on his enemies. The third was undetectable, invisible, mincing a number of the evil beasts with a weapon just like the first's. As he halted, he came into view, armored in tan and green gear. The fourth jumped in after letting a gaseous green projectile into the crowd. He wore blue armor with green secondary paint. He proceeded to fire more shots into the crowd, smashing them to bits with the peculiar weapon. The final spared no time in jumping into the fray and fighting with his bare, four-fingered fists, screaming loudly in rage and excitement as his victims dissipated. He was practically a blur of gold and teal as he leapt from beast to beast, letting as many as he could know he might. He then unloaded his weaponry, two massive, black pieces of artillery, from his back and propped them both up on his shoulders, discharging four explosive rounds into the cluster. The first pressed on on his own, but the last four stayed relatively close. In time, the tide of the battle turned until the lot of the attackers was destroyed. Across the ship, the taller of the beasts roared with pride as one, unified family. The shorter ones joined in, as did the massive ones and soon, the crew of the _Legacy_.

As the deck quieted, the mysterious allies gathered together. Most of the reptiles wore blue and grey, red, or pure black. The five who had come in last seemed like odd ducks to Vicus. The small creatures wore hefty suits with most of their weight in a wide, pointed backpack apparatus. The final species, the two giants, wore bulky, blue armor with shields and appeared to be made of thick orange fibers. Vicus hesitated to approach them, but Arrow and Amelia wasted no time in stepping towards the one in pure white. It motioned for the rest of the troops. The reptiles flipped a hatch open on their helmets and tapped away, while the small ones adjusted a dial on their gas masks.

"Well done, Mr. Half-Jaw," Arrow chuckled, presenting his hand, which Half-Jaw took.

"And you as well, Mr. Arrow," the beast laughed. He then turned to Amelia and shook her bony hand as well.

"You know," she said, "We didn't ask for your help."

"You don't have to," the tan-clad beast spoke in a deep, rich voice, stepping up to her.

"Any friend of an Elite is a brother of an Elite," the one in white and red agreed, his voice equally deep, but hoarse and with more power. He clenched a fist. "And like blood brothers, an Elite will bring the cavalry at the cutting of a finger."

The crazed one babbled something in agreement and raced forward, lifting Arrow off his feet in a large hug.

"I missed you, too, old fellow," Arrow chortled before Hudge put him down.

"And you're just as quiet as ever, Bron" Amelia smiled to the final of the four.

"Happens," he answered, shrugging.

"Well, lads," Arrow bellowed to the crowd, "Meet the family."

"We underestimated ya, Silver," Scroop laughed, patting the heavyset man on the shoulder.

"Aye," Turnbuckle cried from another of the lifeboats. "He's slyer than he lets on!"

"The world'll remember Great Long John Silver!" Onus cheered.

"Aye, lads!" Silver shouted back. "That they will!" He took his seat again as they all settled.

"How'd ya do it, by the by?" Scroop inquired.

"Oh, come now, fellas!" Silver frowned in, leading them all on. "A good thief's gotta have his secrets, aye?"

"Boo!" came the hiss of the crowd as they pelted him with whatever small thing they could find.

"At least tell us they won't remember us," Scroop insisted.

"Oh, ya don't hafta worry 'bout 'dat," Silver chuckled, looking over the map. "They don't care 'bout us, and when they see their 'map' is still there, we'll be Scott-free."


	4. Chapter 4

**Four**

"What brings you to these parts?" Amelia asked Half-Jaw as he and the Elite Quadra ate dinner with Arrow and the Captain.

"We had a bit of a falling out with the Covenant," Half-Jaw answered grimly.

"What do you mean?" Arrow inquired.

"What _don't_ we mean?" The Great Smoo in red and white shouted, slamming his fist on the table.

"After one of our Prophets was assassinated," Silent Hunter, the camouflage-colored Elite explained, more calmly, "The Elites' abilities as warriors were questioned, and we became replaced by the Brutes."

"Those dreadful beasts?" Amelia scoffed.

"Hudge," The Hudge, in teal and gold, barked in agreement.

"Afterwards, on a mission to retrieve the key to Halo," Silent Hunter continued, "the current Arbiter was supposedly assassinated and his duty taken over by the same Brute. Tartarus, Chieftain."

"When I found that the Arbiter was gone and Tartarus had taken the icon against the will of the Prophets," Half-Jaw picked up, "I let him know exactly what his punishment would be at the hands of the Hierarchs. To my dismay and humiliation, I learned that it had been the Prophets who had instructed him to kill the Arbiter and take the icon."

"He sent a handful of Brutes to dispose of the five of us," Smoo spoke in rage though a mouthful of food. He swallowed and said, "But those filthy, disgusting primates learned the hard way why few enemies can stand up to the might of the Elite Quadra!"

"Hudge!" The Hudge shouted, clenching his fist in the air. Amelia and Arrow shot looks at each other and chuckled.

"After that," Silent Hunter spoke, "We went back to the surface of the ring, where we found that the Elites were already dealing with Brutes with the help of the Grunts and Hunters."

"Apparently, those Drones and Jackals decided that the Brutes were the better force," Smoo snorted in disdain.

"As of that point," Half-Jaw said, "The Brutes, Prophets, and the rest decided that they were the only ones worthy of the Great Journey. The whole thing seemed wrong enough as it was."

"Then we found the Arbiter," Silent Hunter added.

"A tough one, he was," Smoo agreed.

"He told us of the true purpose of the rings," Half-Jaw finished, "Which, to our horror, was to wipe out all manner of sentient life in the area on and in a large radius surrounding the installation as a means to controlling the Flood."

"Flood?" Amelia queried.

"Don't ask," Smoo murmured.

"Upon hearing that, we rallied together all the Elites, Grunts, and Hunters we could find or contact and piled them into as many cruisers as we could get our hands on. Those of us with you now stayed behind to do a little hacking."

"Indeed?" Arrow asked, quite intrigued by the tale.

"What sort of hacking?" Amelia questioned.

"Apparently, the rings act together," Silent Hunter elaborated, "So, when one ring is activated, the next is activated automatically, and the next until all seven go."

"Done right," Smoo affixed, "And the Forerunners most certainly did it right, the rings could wipe out all life in the known span of the worlds as we know it."

Amelia and Arrow went wide-eyed.

"So, it was necessary to sever the connection," Half-Jaw continued, "To the point that only the creatures on that particular Halo were eliminated.

"Some of them stayed behind to prevent the Brutes and Truth from getting into the control room for as long as possible. Meanwhile, we traced the computer on the installation down back into the chasms of Halo, where we worked on breaking the link. Thankfully, we finished in time to escape the activation."

"And the Brutes?" Arrow breathed.

"Dead, hopefully," Bron finally spoke.

"Hudge," the Hudge nodded.

"Morbid," Amelia sighed after a while.

"Yep," Bron agreed.

The mess hall had a tad more room now, with Silver gone and many of the passengers no more. All the better for the new allies to take some time off. Everyone seemed more than fascinated by the tales they had to tell and the weapons they had to show. Vicus got well acquainted with their large assortment, including the plasma rifle, needler, carbine, and numerous other heavy ordinance pieces.

One member of particular interest was not an Elite, but a Grunt wearing blue armor. He did much more talking than the rest of the Grunts, namely about his experiences with the Elite Quadra, whom Vicus decided must have been the four oddly colored Elites.

"They lucky they got Gruntley," the Grunt said to many people, particularly the original passengers. "Think of all things Grunt can do."

"Like waddle?" another Grunt shouted in their characteristic, high-pitched, scratchy voice. This garnered a laugh from the spectators.

"Maybe you," Gruntley laughed in response, "But you no got this!" He flexed his arm, and a gold shield popped out from an object on his wrist.

"When you get Jackal shield?" a Grunt snapped in disbelief.

"Gold one, at that!" another shouted, excited.

Vicus laughed to himself at Gruntley's antics, but he was still very curious about many things. He reached over and tapped a laughing Elite in black.

"Got a minute?" he asked.

"Several, brother," the creature responded. Though he probably wasn't, normally, while he was speaking human, he sounded Scottish, his voice gritty like the Great Smoo. Jim and Doppler leaned in as inconspicuously as possible. "What's on your mind?"

"I was wondering about Amelia and the Elite Quadra and Half-Jaw."

"Say no more, friend," the Elite answered.

This part of space, where virtually nothing existed, could give even a grown Elite the shivers. Half-Jaw, born Gorva EtGramminEe had to remain collected, despite the dead quiet. Even so, he still couldn't quite understand what the purpose was of being out here. High Charity was too far away to be concerned with a blip on the radar so far out. Of course, it _was _on the move. True, it _was _moving in the general direction of High Charity, but it was too far off to tell if it was moving directly towards them. Still, the Prophets had commanded it.

"Anything yet?" Tartarus asked as he approached him, arms folded.

"Nothing," Half-Jaw hissed, exasperated. "Not even so much as a ping on the radar."

"I told them it was nothing to be concerned with," Tartarus sighed, relaxing. "Whatever it was is probably miles out of our reach by now."

Half-Jaw nodded, still annoyed. He envied the seat of the Prophets sometimes. He would even settle for a position on the council every now and again. He did not, however, enjoy their sheer paranoia. Ever since the glassing of Ludorus Prime five years ago, the Special Operations team hadn't seen much action. Though he felt pity for himself, he somehow found himself pitying the Elite Quadra more. It must've been difficult, having to know that you were created and conceived to be the Arbiter of Spec. Ops. and not see action for five straight, dull years. Still, they were good enough, and they made due with the time they had.

"Commander," a gruff Special Ops. Elite named Tilliarc barked. "I'm getting something."

"How did we miss it?" EtGramminEe demanded as he and Tartarus dashed over to the Elite's console.

"Brachtanus suggested we switch to organic tracer mode," Tilliarc answered, gesturing to the Brute Engineer next to him. Tartarus looked over at Half-Jaw and smiled a sarcastic grin.

"Whatever it is," Brachtanus chimed in, "It's either enormous or crawling with something."

"It must be encased in a vessel of some sort, right?" Half-Jaw queried. "Nothing living could be drifting this far from another world, could it?"

"Something must've cut power to it," Tilliarc offered, "And shredded it to the point of being almost undetectable to our heavy-scale detectors."

"How did High Charity detect it this far out?" Tartarus wondered aloud. Tilliarc opened his mouth to say something, then shook his head and said nothing.

"We get signal!" Gruntley shouted, very excited, ending a feud between Silent Hunter and The Great Smoo. "From High Charity! Urgent! Urgent!"

"Alright, alright," Half-Jaw insisted. "Let me see."

Gruntley tapped away on the keypad at his station, and the Prophet of Regret appeared on the screen.

"Noble Prophet," Half-Jaw bowed his head. This transmission was a matter of days old, but he did it as a force of habit. The rest followed suit.

"At ease, troops, as I'm sure you are showing your respect as usual," Regret spoke. He had a grim expression on his face. "As much as I hate to have to tell you this, you are in for a grave danger." Everyone on the bridge left their stations, too terrified to care about whatever it was that they were supposed to be doing.

Regret was gone and replaced by a black screen. A green serial code flashed onto it, though nobody understood it. It flickered off, then flickered back on again. A hideous, massive creature with an elongated trunk and obese body came on, trying to speak through screaming, mayhem, and a poor signal.

"To whatever soul receives this, I implore you to stay as far away from this ship as possible. If you are a population, evacuate the moment you get this message, as you will soon face a terror beyond anything you will ever encounter." There was an explosion in the background. "We didn't mean to. They turned out to be a plague. Unbiased. Instinctive. There's no hope of survival." Flicker. "I…know…kill…Fire…key…their..." It flickered, died, then came on for a split second, of which they could make out a brutal slaughtering.

There was a loud thud. The transmission of Regret was finished, and they could hear strange noises coming from somewhere on the hull.

"Where are they?" Half-Jaw whispered. Brachtanus returned to his station and checked the readings.

"Well?" Tartarus hissed when no response came.

"Right on top of us," Brachtanus stammered.

There was a buzzing noise outside followed by utter silence. Then, they could hear screaming and fighting from sector three of the cruiser, back and to the left only a little ways from the bridge.

"Get me a visual on sector three," Gorva shouted, trying to suppress his terror. Tartarus raised his hammer and clutched it tightly. The Quadra booted up their shields and grabbed their weapons.

The screen that came up was cracked down the center and the area was in ruins. Everywhere, Covenant members did what they could to face off against a swarm of dark-skinned, bone-thin creatures with extended craniums. Even Hunters were being overtaken by the sheer number of them.

"How did they get through the shields?" Half-Jaw bellowed, checking his sword and rifle.

"There's only one way to find out," Tartarus insisted. He barked some orders to his Brutes, who loaded their weapons and barked back. The Jackals adjusted their shields and armor, while the Elites finished with their own shields and equipment.

"Whatever they are," Half-Jaw snarled, "They will know the might of the Covenant!" All of the bridge members, even the Grunts, howled with approval. Gorva looked at Tilliarc and ordered, "Seal those doors leading out of sector three and be ready to defend the bridge." Tilliarc saluted as he and Brachtanus began to do their job. A handful of sentries from each species stayed behind on the bridge to help the two of them, while the rest hiked it down to sector three. "Seal that last one as soon as we're out," Tartarus commanded. Then, he followed his comrades.

The lot of them piled in…

…and found naught but a few dead bodies and a large structure jutting out through a hole in the hull.

"Where are they?" Half-Jaw whispered, his sword drawn.

"I recommend camouflage, Commander," Silent Hunter suggested.

"Not all of us are so fortunate," Tartarus responded, looking around.

"Still," Smoo offered, "We can trick them into thinking there's only Brutes and Jackals."

"Fair enough," Tartarus nodded. The Grunts and Elites camouflaged themselves and awaited the attack.

The first to die was an invisible Elite.

They fell from the shadows on the ceiling; falling and gashing themselves open to spill acid on their victims, rendering their shields useless. How they could see them, no one could tell, but they were fortunate to have so many powerful members in their group.

Then came the creatures that were obviously of this species, but strangely resembling the species of the Covenant. There was a hoofed group with four mandibles and four pectorals, a group of more muscular ones than the usual, short, stubby ones that skirted about nimbly, and those with thin heads and frailer bodies.

Unfortunately, the group could do little against the creatures. With every soldier they lost, it seemed that another eventually arose on the other end to take his place.

Then, in the heat of battle, something within the mind of The Hudge clicked. He recalled the word "Fire" from within the transmission, and brought one of his launchers about, aiming one of the doors. He launched it, and it exploded violently. No one could tell what he was doing, but they had little time to humor him. He dashed to the blaze and flung a flaming chunk at one of the animals. Where they had exploded in a burst of acidic goo before, this one crumbled up and died simply. Now, everyone took notice, and began to grab flaming debris to lob at the enemy. And yet, as well as it worked against one, they were still incredibly numerous, and going back for a piece that missed was suicide. The Hudge knew he couldn't afford to destroy another door or even a wall. It seemed hopeless.

Then came the thunderous barrage.

From outside, a wall of heavy fire pummeled the cruiser. However, rather than hit the whole exterior, it focused on the hole in the shields and the structure that filled it. The beasts ran inside of it and carried out a thick, cocoon-like object at least fifteen feet in length. They made perfect timing, as the chunk was destroyed mere seconds after they escaped.

A peculiar voice spoke in a language that none of them could understand.   
It repeated one command over and over until finally it unloaded another heavy artillery rain on the shield covering until finally it opened. A group of creatures swooped in while they could, dressed in odd uniforms and clutching long weapons with backpacks. One spoke something to the rest, and they raised their weapons. The attackers swarmed on them…

…And with a simple command, they were incinerated, cocoon and all.

One of the new boarders removed its hat, revealing the face of a thick creature made of stone. It stuck something in its mouth and said, "Now, would you please lower your shields?"

"Five years ago, as I figure it," the Elite finished. "The _Legacy _had gotten the same signal and recognized the Space Jockeys. They knew what was coming, and when the found that we were heading that way, too, they packed for the trip. The Brutes weren't happy about the unorthodox style of helping, or being helped, period, but everyone else rejoiced. After that, Half-Jaw and Amelia kept in touch for a little while. Then, when we found the first Halo, they lost contact. When we left the second Halo, we caught wind of an enemy we hadn't seen but a few of in our lives. We tracked them down and tried to catch up, but they moved fast. Conveniently, when we reached them, they were attacking the _Legacy_."

"There's a yarn for you, Jim," Vicus laughed.

Some time after dinner, when most of the people on the ship had retreated to the lower decks, Vicus took a walk outside in an effort to clear his head. There, he found the brilliantly clad Half-Jaw, standing in the middle of the deck, eyes to the stars.

"You like 'em, too, I see," Vicus spoke, timidly in the angelic white presence of the mighty Commander.

"There's always been something comforting about them," Half-Jaw sighed.   
He looked at Vicus. "I was born in the Covenant city of High Charity, and I never really left unless something needed investigation or slaughtering. As a warrior, my mind wrapped mainly around the idea of battle, striving for something great. Being as though few creatures will ever see a star up close outside of their own solar system, I suppose I felt the stars speaking to me. Telling me to become greater." He looked up towards them again. "And I suppose it doesn't get much better than being an Ultra Special Operations Elite."

Vicus stepped closer to him. "You had a much larger family once. What happened?"

"We stopped seeing eye-to-eye," Half-Jaw answered. "After we found that everything we stood for and worked for was a lie, we had a bit of change of heart. We could still be the mightiest warriors around, but for ourselves and the good of our true brethren. There aren't many creatures foolish enough to take a platoon of rage-filled Elites, unified Grunts, and armored Hunters."

"What about the Elite Quadra?" Vicus asked, curious.

Half-Jaw looked down at him again. "That's a story that will forever be told through our family."

Elite, young, and restless, enjoyed wrestling his younger brother, Elite. For three years old, his young sibling was more than a match for anyone around elder Elite's age.

Solely their mother, Tua LorVingEe, who had raised them since the younger one had been born, raised the pair of Sangheili boys. Their father, Aizax CalloVingEe, a great General, had died at that time, along with his brother, Nargai TaiVingEe, in a battle that their sons would never know of.

Of course, technically, they weren't just raised by their mother, but by their aunt as well. Nargai had had two sons of his own, Elite and Elite. The elder of that pair was the oldest of the four; the younger was third in line. Aizax's elder child was second, and his youngest was the youngest of them all.

Confusing, yes. As was the case for such young Elites. Before they gained the ability to fight, they were nameless, uncaring of anything other than the present. Still, the four of them couldn't go about referring to each other with the same name. So, they tended to refer to each other using a number based upon their age as compared to the others: One, Two, Three, and Four.

So, from an early age, the lot of them were exposed to hardships and the promise of being fighters when they were grown. One saw himself as vastly superior to his younger siblings, as they knew each other. He tended to carry this air about him, proud and silent. Two, while still considering himself superior, was loud and rambunctious about it, liking to command one of his younger siblings as a Captain would his troop. This usually led to a biased feud that was made up with a hug later. Three had been close to his father, and his death had scarred him mentally. He didn't cry, ever, as he knew he would be expected to be tough when he was grown, but he never spoke to anyone outside of his family. Four was three years of age, too young to think of much other than attacking Two whenever his back was turned.

Tua and Rhu, the mothers of the Ving children, valued their children as the last source of happiness to them after their husbands' deaths. They cherished their level of thinking, too advanced to not even be ten, and their willingness to be strong in the face of adversity, be it between themselves or life itself. They applauded their curiosity and joy in piecing virtually useless pieces of scrap to make something still remarkably useless, but much more attractive than what it had been before. The mothers, like most civilized creatures, simply loved their children.

Unfortunately, the eyes of the Covenant did, as well.

When Four was five, Three six, Two seven, and One eight, they were taken from the mothers by High Prophet Mercy himself.

"You are good mothers," he cajoled, "And I pray that you never stop loving your children. However, you are loyal members of our sacred Covenant, who loves your children as much as they love you. I assure you, Gorva will show them the utmost care." He gestured to a young Elite, clad in blue.

And that was it. They were dragged away from their mothers with the promise that they would soon return, but they never did. And Gorva never showed them the utmost care. He was a mean young Sangheili of nineteen that hauled them by their legs in the morning and slung them into the mud, screaming that if they couldn't even learn to crawl in combat, they would soon be eating the very mud they were caked in.

Every morning, noon, and evening, they were shot at with painful, fake blasts of plasma from older Elites that they couldn't even see until everyone could agree that the four could be stealthy. Made to understand that as of now, they were lower than the Grunts, who were allowed to laugh at them every day. Subjected to foul scenes of death and decay to show them what it was like. Shown the pain of going days without food while stuck in the proverbial corner, and how to retaliate when forced into said corner.

One day, Four, young and not as ready for such things as his brother and cousins, lost his will to stay. He ran and ran into the woods as fast and as hard as his burning little legs could carry him, using what he knew and his small body to evade the search party that was after him. He knew that he would be humiliated in front of his family if they caught him, so he did everything he could to stay from their grasp. At the age of merely six, he had managed to escape capture from a number of the finest Elites, including Gorva, whom he hated most.

When he was confident he was gone, something hit him. He was alone. Two, his older brother, couldn't help him. Three, strong and cool, couldn't help him. One, a king amongst them, couldn't help him. So, he wept. He wept and wept until his couldn't stand the pain in his throat any longer. After this, he sat against a tree, where his mind began to run through its torment. The death, the pain, the loneliness, the humiliation, the fear, Gorva, Mommy, Daddy who didn't exist. He clenched his eyes and let it all sink in until his mind knew nothing but instinct. He abandoned the need for thought or conversation, screaming for the one word that came to his warped little head. No one, not even his family, could ever figure out what it was or what it meant, only that it meant something to him.

"Hudge," he whispered.

"Hudge," he murmured.

"Hudge!" he barked.

"Hudge!" he screamed.

"HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDGE!" he bellowed until his voice tore and the birds dared not come.

"Hudge, then?" a voice spoke to him. It was one of his own, but in a hood and with a staff. He removed his hood, revealing an older fellow, a false beard pasted to his neck to compensate for the chin he didn't have and more of the same white fuzz pasted just above his eyes for reasons Four couldn't determine, not that he cared. Four raced at him, fists clenched and saliva foaming. With his free hand, the old man snatched him up effortlessly and held him there, flailing and fighting until he wore out the last of his incredible stamina.

"Well, Hudge," the codger spoke blandly, his voice rich with a dialect that rolled off the tongue, "I am Magnus CroBorretEe, but being as though I'm a hermit now, they just call me Maximus, not that there's anybody around to call me that, but you get the idea." He shuffled off towards his house, an old dome laid nearly flat against the ground. All about the house, Oswocs grazed on grass that hadn't been trimmed for some time.

As the Hudge, as he was know referred to, learned to channel his insanity into skill, strength, aggression, and stability with objects, One, Two, and Three were toughened up further, being taught techniques that only certain Elites knew, like Gorva or some Honor Guard that had disappeared. They began to be able to use their skills in calculation and creativity to build and upgrade weapons, such as an energy sword that never lost its power, belts that held more ammo than they looked to from the outside, and stealth fields that lasted longer. Two could almost see battles before they happened and could plot the best course of action, choose the perfect formations, and even pick the best weapons for each one of his troop simulations. One learned to be silent and use his camouflage in the perfect points down to the split second to make him absolutely invisible. Three could take any gun apart and repair it in a matter of seconds, could unload and reload in a flash, examine a weapon for only a moment before being able to identify even the most intricate details. They were genius, they were mighty, and they were ready.

At twelve, thirteen, and fourteen, they were fitted with armor colored to their preferences and promised that it would grow with them until their bodies stopped. As well, they were honored with names. They had beaten Gorva for the title of youngest Elites accepted into the military, thus giving them to privilege to be something more than numbers.

Three became Benbrook BroVingEe, the munitions expert. He knew where all of their preferred weapons were at all times and knew exactly when his allies were short on ammo without hearing a word. He wielded a fuel rod cannon complete with sound and flash suppressor as his weapon of choice. "Bro" he coupled with "Nargai" to call himself Bron.

Two became Car'An SmooVingEe, the leader. His red and white armor made him a legend among enemies and allies alike, like a great, purging fire ready to burn the wicked where they stood. His name, Smoo, was Sangheili for "leader", and indeed, he was. A great one at that. The Great Smoo, he was, sporting a pair of Brute plasma rifles as a sign of above average achievement.

One became Arzhish IyVingEe, the shadow. With his prototype energy sword and specialized stealth cloak, he could move about a group of enemies and dispatch them all without flaw or panic. He was heralded to have the ability to do as much damage as a pair of Hunters, without the mess and noise. He was the Silent Hunter.

Then, the day before they were to be shown to High Charity, a familiar face returned to their training facility. He was thick and rippling with muscle and large scars. His armor was vibrantly gold, a teal color to help bring it out. On his back, he strapped a pair of alien rocket launchers the Elites referred as Conflagrators, capable of unleashing a spiraling, rapid barrage of explosive rounds with the holding of the trigger. Behind him, an old Elite in off-white armor and tattered shoulder crests. On his head, he wore a less-than-convincing hood, rather than anything else attached to it. He held a staff in his hands.

"If it isn't the deserter," one of the trainers growled, exasperated. He stepped up to strike the Hudge, but the Hudge grasped his wrist and slung him into the wall.

Gorva rose to attack him, and Hudge cracked him in the face hard enough to send his helmet spinning.

"He has my blessing," the old fellow said, removing his hood to reveal that he had random patches of fuzz pasted to his face now. "For whatever reason, he has my blessing."

"Is that Maximus?" Gorva spluttered in disbelief.

"Where?" Maximus queried, looking about.

"Why did you leave?" another Elite queried, awe-struck.

"They said I should take some time off, because they felt I would do better as a hermit."

"They said you should take a vacation, maybe go into the hills," an Ultra Special Operations Elite chimed in, very familiar with the exploits of Magnus CroBarretEe.

"Exactly," Maximus agreed, "and a fisherman I did become."

As it turned out, Maximus had lost his mind years before due to decades of service in the military. After his wild method of fighting killed several of his own teammates, an event that he didn't remember, his name was changed to CroBarretEe, Cro being "insane". He had schooled the Hudge in several unorthodox methods, causing the young one's own insanity to be more useful. He was warmly accepted back by his brothers, an Elite warrior of only eleven. Maximus went back to his home in High Charity, where he peddled gelatin for a living, as he found it to be the only thing he could trust.

"They became the Elite Quadra", Half-Jaw reminisced, "Special Operations Elites employed in the worst of crises.

"In retrospect, I almost feel bad for what I and the rest of the Spec. Ops. Elites had to put them through, as it led to the Hudge's mental anguish, but they're the absolute best warriors I've ever had the pleasure of serving with. In truth, while I am their commander, they are better than I can ever hope to be. A great deal of this they can attribute to having unshakable faith in their family and each other." He gestured to his nubs, once mandibles. "Bron and Silent Hunter had to fight through a wall of Flood to get to my broken body. Bron brought me the will to live on, as if it leaks from his very pores. Silent Hunter made every effort to amputate my jaws, rotted by the Flood, as painlessly as possible. Smoo strapped me to his back and double-timed his Ghost back to our ship for my sake, where the Hudge stayed by me the rest of the night."

Vicus looked at the stars, doing his best to choke back the tears that the story jerked from his eyes. It was heartwarming enough without reminding him of the time Rua had collected funds in every way he could find for the doctor's office when Vicus had broken his arm. Or when Vicus and Rua had pilfered a cat for Ketta when they were much younger and they had hurt her feelings about her latest painting. If nothing else, every Elite represented the fundamentals of brotherhood and union. It was peaceful to him.

He just wished he could say the same for Jim, who leaned over the railing, anger welling in his eyes.

"Everything alright, Jim?" he questioned, leaning next to his friend..

"Silver," Jim choked as a tear ran down his eye. "He's gone."


	5. Chapter 5

**Five**

"You mean to tell me Silver and his rag-tag crew are off the ship?" Amelia questioned, toying with her compass on the table.

"That's right," Jim spoke, a slight tone of rage in his voice. "Ma'am," he put in.

"Well, very good then," she dismissed. "Carry on."

"Ma'am," Vicus chimed in, "Could we at least get a feel for where he is?"

"I don't want to know where he is," she replied, curt as ever. "And even if I did, there's no telling where he was headed or for what purpose."

Vicus looked to his right and noticed a safe on the wall. He thought about this, and realized that he hadn't seen hide or hair of this alleged map device. If anyone would be keeping it, a stickler for command protocol would, most certainly. Silver was a shady character. Hadn't he come in here to retrieve the Captain earlier?

His key materialized in his hands, and as he looked down at it, he thought some more. A big key had to be good for something other than sticking in a brick wall. He raised it, or, rather, allowed it to raise his arm, to the lock on the safe.

"Mr. Manĝegi," Amelia queried. When he didn't halt, she called his name again.

"The Captain is giving you an order," Arrow demanded, silent until now.

The key released a thin beam of light and worked its way into the lock. They heard the tumblers click and the bolt release. Then, the safe swung open…

…And a small, brass orb sat inside.

Vicus let his hands drop in disappointment and embarrassment as the Captain walked over to the safe.

"There, now," she sighed, placing a hand on the door of the safe, "Safe, sound, and secure. We have no need for your paranoia." She looked at him, cat eyes narrowing. "And mark me," she hissed, "Should you ever directly defy my command again, I'll have you confined to the brig for," she lightened up, hit with something, and looked Arrow. "How long, Mr. Arrow?"

"'No less than three weeks of your miserable, otherwise insignificant life,' to quote."

"Sounds like a plan. Who said that?"

"You did, Captain," Arrow chuckled.

"Yes, well, there you are," she finished, beginning to close the safe. Before she did, however, the brass sphere so vital melted down, becoming liquid and pinkish. It swirled about and exited the safe before it closed, forming a pair of eyes, fins, and a mouth. It laughed to itself like a sinister pink weasel and began to encircle a confused Vicus, becoming a copy of the young man in miniature form. He then found Jim and attempted to snuggle up under his chin.

"Morph, you little rat!" he shouted. "Did Silver tell you to stay there?"

"'Oy!" Morph mimicking Silver spoke, then broke into chattering laughter.

"What is that thing?" Vicus asked, very interested, garnering a mocking from the creature.

"Silver's obnoxious pet blob," Amelia growled, rubbing her eyes.

"A Morph," Jim elaborated. "He can…well…morph."

"So, Silver has the map?" Amelia asked, straightening her jacket and her hair. "How do we plan to track him?"

"Morph," Jim asked the creature, "Do you know where Silver was headed?" Morph chuckled and turned into a skull and then an island and then back again, always seeming to babble something.

"What the blazes is that?" Amelia snarled.

"Skull Island?" Vicus queried.

"Morph," Jim pressed, "What about Treasure Planet?"

"Perhaps they are one and the same," Arrow grumbled from his silence again.

"Don't be daft," the Captain scoffed. "Skull Island is a vast expanse of nothing, no place for an immeasurable amount of treasure."

"Perhaps," Arrow nodded, pacing about. "Skull Island exists, we know this. Numerous fine vessels have been lost forever in the wake of entering its orbit, we know this. What we don't know is exactly why. Few people have made it to that island, and even fewer have returned. Perhaps that's where Flint's treasure is truly hidden"

He looked them over and chuckled, "At least, that's where I'd hide a fortune if I had one."

"Skull Island, Jim?" Doppler nearly screamed. "That's not what I signed up for! I hired this crew to search out the 'loot of a thousand worlds', not to be consumed by some island full of heaven only knows what!"

"Think about it, Doc," Jim attempted. "We can find the greatest treasure in existence, send these people to a better home, and still have enough money left over to be the wealthiest souls in existence."

"And we have one of the best crews on our hands, here," Vicus added.

"And us?" a bystander asked from his bed.

"Yeah," another shouted. "I think we're with the good Doctor on this when he says that we're not meant for roughing it out in some mythical jungle to get eaten alive or smashed to pieces!" There was loud uproar amongst the people until Half-Jaw stepped heavily down the stairs.

"I understand your concern," he said after looking them all over. "I'm not one for treasure hunting, normally. But my brothers and I have no home, just like the lot of you. Make no mistake, you are not the only ones removed from your worlds. Imagine being heralded as the greatest warriors in the known universe and then becoming nomads traversing the galaxy, separated from the only family you know.

"I know your pain, everyone, and believe me when I say that if this treasure is as vast as it is spoken of, your home will be our first priority." He said nothing more, but returned up the steps.

"Well," Doppler cleared his throat, "I suppose we have a home in any case, eh, Jim?" Everyone in the living quarters slowly but surely came around until the finally gathered together in what seemed to be a prayer. They rallied about in a large circle and worked together to hope for something to keep them safe and secure. It did Vicus' heart good to see them all come together, complete strangers believing in something together. It was peaceful…

…Until the _Legacy _was rammed, throwing everyone off their feet. Vicus and Jim bounded up the steps, followed by the gatherers. Amelia raced out of her quarters to join up with the Elite Quadra and Arrow, who were leaning over the railing and looking at something.

A great and mighty something that rose up from the depths, brushing them harshly again and causing the people to recoil. It was a fellow spacecraft, flying black sails and looking incredibly worn.

Amelia stood on the railing and grabbed a rope to stabilize herself.

"Listen here you rat-faced lowlife!" she screamed.

A man came into view, appearing filthy and tattered. He wore a triangular cap and heavy garbs. At his waist was a sword and a pistol.

"Amelia," he shouted back. "You know me all to well!"

"Jack Sparrow!" Smoo bellowed. "You just wait until I get to my Phantom!"

"I appreciate the offer, my 'great and powerful' friend," he responded, his body flailing about both clumsily and simply. "But I've got worse problems on my hands than the likes of ye."

"Sparrow, you _will _pay for the damages to this ship. Maybe then I'll spare you your own ship's demise." Grunts moved to the laser cannons and piled into the plasma canons on their own ships.

"Aye, aye," he saluted, "If ye live, ya can send me the bill, mates." With that, he motioned to his pilot and ran to his ship's lower levels. The raggedy vessel sped away, leaving the _Legacy _far behind.

"How do you know him?" Vicus asked Half-Jaw, confused.

"He's a less-than-average pirate that once stole the _Legacy _and a Covenant cruiser for the sole purpose of reclaiming that beat-up hunk of garbage, _The Black Pearl._"

"And this time, he's not escaping," Amelia snarled. "All hands man your stations! We're bringing that pirate in for his just rewards."

"Skull Island, Captain?" Jim called. Amelia slowed, then gritted her teeth.

"We may very well get them both in one package, Captain," Delbert responded, taking note of a computer read-out. "According to this, Sparrowis headed in that direction, and if I'm picking up this communication overlay correctly, that's most certainly where they're headed."

"Then we're hunting them down!" Amelia laughed with pride.

"Wait," Doppler interjected. "The _Tetra: Navigator's _pilot is sending us a message of urgent nature."

"That's us," Silent Hunter breathed, half-consciously pushing Vicus and Jim out of the way. The other members of the _Navigator _launched forward to hear the transmission.

"Go ahead, _Navigator_," Doppler commanded. It came through very full of static, odd for a ship practically orbiting the _Legacy. _Finally, one single plea came through.

"Look behind you."

The _Legacy's _stern was decimated, though thankfully, no one was in the lower decks. Still, a number of people were killed in the attack. The rest attempted to flee towards the bow. The attacker became clear as it rose higher than the _Legacy. _It was yet another ship, though this one was more sinister in appearance than the _Black Pearl_. Everything seemed to have a jagged edge, and the mass almost appeared alive.

Now, the force of the ramming sent the remainder of the _Legacy _spiraling out of control. And, though there were few, the poor souls of the _Bloodline,_ the train of carriers, were obliterated.

"Everybody hold onto something!" Amelia screamed.

"Tie yourselves down with whatever you can find!" Arrow cried, trying to maintain his usual calm. Everyone began scrambling for some piece of shredded rope or anything they could get their hands on.

"Mr Manĝegi, Mr. Hawkins," Amelia ordered. "Ensure that every one of those lifelines is secured to something secured to something else!" Vicus did as he was told, grabbing all of the ropes he could find and tying them down as fast as he could move on the angled, unstable craft. Of course, as willing as he was to tie down everybody else, he forgot a very important person…

…Himself.

The ship gave a jerk, and Vicus was slung from the shattered deck, beginning his journey into the far reaches of nothing…

…Until Jim grabbed his hand.

As Vicus floated about away from the ship, Jim and his lifeline being the only thing keeping him tethered to it, Vicus realized something very important:

He still had a friend out here.

"I owe you one," Vicus chuckled through the situation.

"Not if I can't get back to the ship," Jim smiled back.

Gruntley finished with all of the lifelines in his area, but noticed something peculiar. One of the lifelines was going off the ship. Gruntley, being a Grunt, was slightly less intelligent than his big brothers were. He scratched his head and pondered exactly why a long coil of rope was extending from the _Legacy. _After all, it wasn't every day that ships had long pieces of random floating rope. Was there even a point to it? He'd heard of gold at the end of a rainbow, but what was at the end of a big rope?

"Gruntley!" Vicus called. "Help!"

Oh.

"Keyboy! Hawkins! Trouble!" Gruntley cried, panicking. After regaining himself, he grabbed the rope and pulled them back in. Quickly, Vicus retied another lifeline to himself and held on tight.

"Captain!" Doppler shouted, tears welling in his eyes, "Landmass dead ahead!"

"For those of you who pray, pray," Amelia commanded. "For those of you who don't, for heaven's sakes, don't screw it up for the rest of us!"

"Brace yourselves!" Half-Jaw screamed. There was utter silence as everyone complied…

…And crashed violently into a rocky shore.

Morris Hanley awoke slowly in great pain. He looked around, though to little avail. Sometime during the crash, he must've taken a nasty conk on the head.

"Alyssa?" he called for his daughter. He got no response. He couldn't have ever imagined this happening. He and his wife had both agreed that their daughter was the most important thing in their lives, and that if they were ever separated they would both go to the ends of the world to get her back.

Morris Hanley, though he didn't know it, had reached one of those ends.

"Sorry about 'at, mate," a gritty, annoying voice spoke to him. He turned about onto his rear and rubbed his eyes. When he removed his hands, he was looking dead into the face of a spiny monstrosity. He was utterly terrified, but suffered from the inability to do anything about it. The beast lit a roll of something and placed it in its mouth. "'Ittle girls ain't much use for workin' on a ship, ya see."

"Where's my daughter?" Morris squeaked, trying to stand to his feet. "Where is she, you cretin?"

The beast snorted a bit and jerked his head towards the railing. Morris got the message and got up to fling himself onto the beast. It dropped its smoke and raised a spiky fist that met with Morris' face. The man dropped dead in an instant.

The other survivors that had been picked up from the wreckage of the _Legacy _were forced to watch as Morris' dead body was thrown overboard with less than the respect that he deserved. Most of them had gotten to know him, knew that he was a kind, and compassionate man with an especial love for his family. Now, he was gone with the flick of a wrist.

Then, they heard an unpleasant noise. A harsh thumping sounded across the deck, and they could only speculate as to what it might be.

They got their answer soon enough.

From the crowd stepped a bulky, green creature. Its head was smooth and slimy, with a beard purely of tentacles that almost seemed to move on their own. Its right arm maintained the same skin, but its left arm was an enormous red claw.

The creature looked them over for a moment, a simple, interested expression on its face, before bringing out a pipe with his "good" hand and lighting it with a dentacle.

"Are ye afraid of death?" he, yes, _he, _spoke in a rolling Scottish voice. "Do ye fear what ye cannot see? Is their somethin' ye believe ye must atone for, that yer sins will one day catch up with ye?" He looked straight into the eyes of one man. "I can offer you a way out." He seemed to speak more politely and promisingly than the other pirate or that Silver character. "One hundred years on my crew, in exchange fer the promise of freedom from yer just rewards."

"Don't listen to him!" someone on the end of the line shouted. He was a tall, handsome young man with bright red hair. Being fairly well-built, he broke away from his captor and stared straight into the eyes of the Captain. Without hesitation, made a wide circle with his hands, bowing afterwards.

The creature's seemingly gentle demeanor changed as he frowned and locked the man's entire neck in his powerful claw.

"Care to give me yer name, there, stranger?" he growled, getting face to face with the young man.

"Luzzu," he hissed through the grip.

"Pleased to meet ya," the beast answered, hanging him over the edge of the ship. "The name's Jones. Davy Jones, if ya please."

"You can't bluff me, Jones," Luzzu spat. "This isn't a real sea. If I find somewhere, I can make it."

"And who said this were a bluff?" The captives watched once more as an innocent man was killed. Jones kept a firm grip on Luzzu, moved his claw behind him, and choke-slammed the young man on the railing, breaking his neck and his back at once.

"I don't suppose another one of ye wants to object to my offer?" Jones asked, calmly now, dropping the broken body off the ship.

Jones smiled to himself at the hard day's work and moved about the deck until he was satisfied. Then, he moved up to the upper deck to gaze upon the flowing stars.

"It's funny," a polite, male voice spoke. "But even after all of these years, I simply can't get over your style."

"Ye always were the king of funny, it seems," Jones smiled, turning. There, he saw a completely white man with green hair and a very expensive blue suit.

"And what's this?" he continued, straightening the man's tie and lapels. "A bit of change in style there, aye?"

"Would you believe that they didn't have any in my size?" The Joker asked, shrugging.

"Most likely, absolutely not," Jones finished. They laughed maniacally together for a moment.

"So," Jones began, pouring the Joker a drink with one of his dentacles. "What brings ye to these parts?"

"You know how we work," the Joker answered.

"A favor fer a favor, then?"

"You really _do _have me figured out, Dave," Joker laughed.

"Ever since ye recovered my heart all those years ago, I suppose I've had no choice."

"This time, I'm asking for the favor," Joker spoke, slightly more serious, "and I'll make the offer."

"Quite the mouth on ye," Jones chuckled, sipping his drink.

"I need someone destroyed," Joker explained. "And in return, I can get you Jack Sparrow."

Jones spluttered and coughed on his drink.

"Quite the deal, friend," he coughed.

"Oh, and it's much more urgent on your end." The Joker grinned that evil, sadistic grin. "Sparrow is headed for Skull Island"

"It's remote, secluded," Jones offered, trying to ignore the very real possibility eating away at the back of his mind.

"Sparrow knows."

This time, Jones dropped his drink. He looked down at it, then back up at the Joker with a dark expression.

"Who be the fool?"


	6. Chapter 6

**Six**

_A precious ring that isn't real._

_What was once yours I came to steal._

_Your world exists within their minds_

_And its hidden treasures I came to find._

_And across this gem I found myself_

_Though on no finger and on no shelf._

_A power great, but not so true,_

_And too much for the likes of you._

_And my world Flooded by a villain great,_

_Your power did I liberate._

_Made it my people's, made it mine,_

_And beautiful was its design._

_And chaos could its wrath unfurl,_

_And change the fate of a million worlds._

_But great the halo as of lore,_

_Its power paled to the child it bore._

Vicus' entire being seemed to ache and sting as he managed to lift his head from something very uncomfortable. He attempted to press himself up, but realized that this was a hopeless cause, his shoulders hurt so bad. So, he simply dropped and claimed defeat.

Then, from within his left pocket, he felt movement. After this, he heard something. Something small, very small, grunting and struggling for something else. He realized his mind was processing things very vaguely, but as of now, he didn't care. As he listened, he decided that the movement and the noises were related. Whatever it was was trying to get out of his pocket.

"For someone with such snazzy lookin' hair," the voice said, small and raspy, "You ain't got much in these pockets of yours." The little thing made it out and climbed up his pants and into his vest pockets. "In fact," it spoke after more rummaging, "You're the worst collection I've had all day." It got out and climbed down his arms and next to his face, where a pile of knick-knacks lay on a tiny, crude cart. Vicus could now see that the little thing was, in fact, a roach.

"You're a roach," Vicus groaned, rolling over, but keeping his eyes trained on the little insect, "and you were in my pockets?"

"Eh," the thing shrugged, "It could be worse. You could be dead."

Dead.

Vicus turned his head and let his jaw drop at the sight of the wreckage and mayhem. Everywhere, dead or unconscious bodies lay on the ground. This was enough to get him on his feet, despite the pain.

"How many people have you visited?" Vicus demanded.

"How do you like weasel, kid?" the roach asked, tugging on his little cart towards a jungle.

"What?"

"Weasel, it tastes horrible, don't eat it."

"Okay," Vicus stammered, crawling after the little monster. "Maybe we got off on the wrong foot. I'm Vicus."

"And I'm not." The roach kept tugging, trying to get to the jungle.

"On a regular basis, you introduce yourself."

"Being as though this probably isn't a regular basis, I'll pass."

"Can you at least tell me how many people are alive over there? Are there any anywhere else?"

"Look," the roach sighed, rubbing his eyes, "You seem like a good kid. The problem is I just don't care. You don't even have anything useful or tasty."

"And if I found something useful or tasty?"

"Doubtful," the roach answered. "I've been through the whole mess of 'em on the shore here, and I've gotten all the good stuff that I can carry. As I figure it, the only good stuff left is in the jungle, and you probably don't wanna go in there."

"Why?" Vicus asked.

From the depths of the jungle, there came a very loud and morbidly terrifying cry that was far from human.

"Hey, look! In the ocean!"

Vicus turned his head instinctively, but saw nothing. When he looked back, he saw that the roach was sprinting as fast as his little legs could carry him, his cart full of stamps, cheese, elastic, and various other trinkets of virtually no value following right behind.

"Hopefully, I'll never see you again!" he shouted, disappearing into the foliage.

Vicus sighed and sat back down, wondering what to do. He wasn't to keen on feeling dead flesh, as he knew some of them would be, but those who were alive needed to at least be moved together. But he couldn't. He had never really experienced death before, and he wasn't so sure he was ready to begin here. He choked for a moment, then let silent tears flow. When he was done, he hoped Jim was alive, picked up a pair of sunglasses that had come off someone, washed them in the ocean, then proceeded on.

Walking down the expanse of beach, he came across a gash in the land filled with enormous, jagged rocks and a few other bodies. He couldn't see his way around these.

Then he heard the roar again and decided it was probably best.

He planted his foot on a smaller rock and balanced himself on a larger one. Then, he moved to another small one up and to his right, getting low to grab hold of his previous standing position. In front of him was another large rock, though it was thinner, probably enough so to grab hold of. He stood up as cautiously as possible, readied himself, and jumped. The impact was especially painful, but he managed to grab hold of it. He maneuvered around until his back was facing the other end of the gash, where he saw a row of rocks barely protruding from the water and dropped onto one. After this, it was fairly easy to get to the other end.

As he made it over a hill in the sand, he noticed someone very familiar. He skin was rather tanned and his clothing was old and worn. Save for the hat he was missing, Vicus recognized him easily as Jack Sparrow. Sparrow was trying on an assortment of hats from a number of bodies, including and Elite helmet that he quickly dismissed as too large. This wasn't going to stand. He had gotten them into this mess in the first place.

"Hey!" Vicus shouted in rage as he scooted down the hill after the man.

Sparrow looked up, smiled, and waved. "Sorry, don't reckon I know ya, lad," he slurred.

"Take a guess!" Vicus snarled, the key appearing. "You destroyed my ship."

Sparrow looked about at the wreckage then back at Vicus. "Well, if ya wanna get technical," he spoke, "It's not your ship, and _I _didn't destroy it. Jones did."

"Whoever he is, you led him to us!" Vicus spat, pointing his key at the man. Were he not so frighteningly angry, he might've thought better than to cross blades with a pirate. Sparrow simply looked at the key then back at Vicus again, not angry, but interested.

"I do believe I've seen something of that sort," he rasped, backing away. "If that be _indeed _the case, I'll leave ya to your work with a smile and a wink." He did just that and ran off. Vicus ran after him, and as they rounded the bend, a large steel ship that must have been making a trip around the island met them.

"Oh dear," Sparrow squeaked, "How'd I miss that?"

"Sparrow?" a man shouted, hanging over the railing. He was tanned, muscled, and spoke with a peculiar accent.

"Englehorn!" Sparrow managed to laugh as he waved back at the man. "How are ya, ya miserable blaggard?"

"Still heavily in debt after that munny I lent you!" Englehorn bellowed. "Say, you know what's odd? I still haven't seen any of that munny back from you."

"Aye, that ya haven't. But I'm going to repay you, I am. There's treasure on this island like none you've ever seen, and it'll get you back your munny."

"How about I just kill you?" Englehorn suggested, raising a rifle and aiming it at Jack. Sparrow's eyes went wide as he began to dash towards the jungle. Vicus ignored the fact that this Englehorn had a gun aimed in his general direction and ran after Sparrow.

Englehorn was a decent man. When he saw the boy run after Sparrow, he sighed and dropped his gun, confident that something else would get him.

As Vicus entered the jungle, he realized something was wrong. The trees weren't particularly dense, at all, but he couldn't see Sparrow. He looked about, then began to run forward, deciding that the pirate couldn't be far. He ran until he reached an area that not even he had anticipated. He was looking at an enormous stone wall. Upon looking up, he realized that it must have risen at least one hundred feet into the air. Who could have built such a thing? More importantly, why?

From nowhere in particular, an arrow landed on the ground next to Vicus. Puzzled, he looked down at it, then looked up in time to see a very dark-skinned man aiming another arrow at him. He ducked and rolled away from the shot in a split-second, only to have another land next to his face. As he rose up, he nearly had his head run through by a crude spear. He looked around to see that he was surrounded by more of the darkened, filthy people, all holding disturbing and rudimentary weaponry. He could fight some, but he wasn't _that _good.

And he didn't have to be.

One of the men dropped dead with a hum and a sizzle as his back was cut open. Another's head was shredded by what looked like familiar teeth marks. Another's neck spiraled about on its own while another still was burned in all sorts of places. The remainder of the men double-timed it away from the massacre as the Elite Quadra appeared from thin air.

"You're alright then, keyboy?" Silent Hunter asked.

"Yeah," Vicus sighed with relief. "And it's Vicus, not keyboy."

"Then follow us, Vicus," the Great Smoo ordered. "We've traversed most of the shores, and so far, we've found nothing."

"Not much more where I was, either," Vicus explained.

"But we didn't see Amelia or Arrow anywhere," Smoo continued.

"Jim?"

"Not that we've seen," Silent Hunter answered.

Vicus sighed, rubbed his eyes under his sunglasses, then said, "There's a ship out there run by some man named Engelhorn. He's got it out for Jack, too."

"Then he's probably a decent man," Smoo suggested.

"But right now, we must find all the survivors we can," Silent Hunter finished. "Something tells me that they're behind this blasted wall, though."

"Couldn't there be some in this part of the forest?" Vicus queried.

"Doubtful," Bron finally spoke.

"No cover," the Hudge managed.

"Then we've gotta get behind the wall," Vicus agreed.

"If they _did _get behind this thing," Smoo pondered, "there must be a way in. Even if we can climb the wall, most of them probably couldn't and it would be much easier to catch up with them if we found the entrance."

The group left the forest to study the wall as best they could. It was mostly rectangular, though fairly simple. The island was large, no mistaking it, as was the wall. Relocating past the gash, however, they could see that there were actually giant stone pillars that rose up on the corners of one face. This was the only thing that made sense, so they pressed on along the shore until they were facing what they assumed to be the main wall directly. Now, what they saw was much more disturbing.

Protruding down and out from the pillars were great, evil faces with jaws enormous and agape. It was unsettling for Vicus, but the Elites seemed unfazed.

"Is that the best you've got?" Smoo shouted to the wall.

"You're walls cannot scare us!" Silent Hunter shouted with him. Vicus could almost smell the pride that they took in themselves. Even Silent Hunter, supposedly the most levelheaded of them all, felt some great pleasure in taunting the natives, wherever they were. Of course, he couldn't blame them. It seemed that pride and each other were the only things keeping their minds intact.

Then, another roar sounded, much more intimidating than the two that Vicus had heard earlier, and more bloodthirsty, if there was such a way to tell.

"That might," Bron muttered after a long silence.


	7. Chapter 7

**Seven**

The _Flying Dutchman _rose from the sea of Skull Island next to the _Black Pearl. _As the remaining crew of the _Pearl _took notice of this fact, they began to scream for their lives, some going so bold as to get off the ship. The merely prolonged the inevitability, however, as the slimy sea hybrids launched themselves from ship to ship, followed by scourges of Nobodies, writhing and twitching their ways to their prey.

"About the _Pearl_, Captain?" Jones' shark-like first mate asked.

"Sparrow's still out there," Jones smiled. "Blow it apart."

The cannonades obliterated the _Black Pearl _in little time. Captain Jack Sparrow's pride and joy now belonged to Davy Jones, as the saying went.

"You too, soon, Sparrow," Jones snickered to himself. "Soon."

"Aside from the obvious," the Joker began, approaching from behind, "what did you want from Sparrow to begin with?"

"Fourteen years he wanted to command that miserable wreck," Jones recalled, "and he only used two. The blasted fool lost it for twelve years to some fellow named Barbossa, and Sparrow decided he could use that as a loophole. When he knew he was marked, he fled." Jones overlooked the remainder of the _Pearl_. "But he'll soon discover ya can't match Davy Jones."

"Being as though it's not your time of the month," Joker laughed, "Or decade, for that matter, I'll take this one." The Joker was lifted by a loyal servant and heaved to the shore, where it was dry.

"Don't forget it, Joker," Jones shouted after him.

"You're talking to one of the most warped minds in the universe at the moment," Joker answered. "I'm insane, but I'm far from stupid." And he flew away, laughing maniacally.

"Ye find the keybearer," Jones instructed his men, "Ye show 'em no mercy!" The crew roared loudly in excitement, and a great number of them piled out and towards the forest.

"What'd I tell ya, lads?" Silver roared to his pirates as Jim unlocked the map. "Didn't I tell ya he had the makin's o' greatness?" The crew laughed with absolute glee at the thought of uncovering the ultimate treasure. Amelia, Arrow, and Doppler dropped their heads with relief and disappointment. The pirates guarding them lowered their guns, but Vlad, the massive, four-armed creature, kept a tight grip on Arrow. Amelia and Doppler were easy to keep tethered, but Arrow was much too strong to be held conventionally.

"Yeah," Jim sneered, "Greatness."

"Ya should consider yerself lucky I found ya layin' flat out in this here forest," Silver taunted. "Ya coulda been dead out here."

"Quit yer jawin', Captain!" Onus laughed. "We can go past wall now!"

"Scroop," Silver commanded, "keep an eye on Mr. Arrow. Vlad, help us with this here interference." Vlad popped his knuckles, grumbled, and approached the wall. He raised one fist, then released it, followed by another, and another, and another, and so on until a large section of the wall was reduced to a dusty pile of rubble.

Silver looked over his crew, back at the wall, then at the bright trail of light leading deeper into the jungle. In the back of his mind, he didn't want Jim to have to go through with this. The boy was a good kid with more potential than anyone he had ever seen, but legendary treasure was more important than a snot-nosed teenager.

Making it past the wall was easy enough, considering the stairs cut into them. Thankfully, if not suspiciously, the natives weren't around.

The jungle was silent, disturbingly so. Vicus wished to move as quickly as he could through the foliage, but the Elites seemed particularly cautious about the matter. Thinking about this carefully, he realized that this was wise. He never could tell what might be watching.

A truth well spoken.

From the trees came more of the shadowy beasts, along with some that wore leaves, dirt, paint, and various other materials to blend them in very well with the environment. They clutched wicked-looking combat knives, and not the positive sort.

"Not a bad get up," Silent Hunter spoke.

"Not at all," Smoo agreed.

"Always someone better, though," Bron added. The Hudge laughed a rather sinister, bloodthirsty laugh, as the four of them seemed to vanish entirely. The attackers, after a moment of half-hearted searching, decided that Vicus was much more important. It wasn't simply that they were too lazy to try and seek out the Elites. They wanted Vicus, and they would get him if it killed them.

And kill them it would.

One of the camouflaged creatures struck out at Vicus with its knife. Vicus sidestepped the blow awkwardly and brought his key down on its head. It recoiled, then bounced back to grab for his throat. He brought the key up and watched as the hand smashed into the crystal, evaporating. It stumbled back again, grasping its nub silently, then looked back up at him. As it did, one of the smallish beasts jumped on his shoulders and wrapped its stubby arms around his neck. The Camo lunged again, and Vicus grabbed the smaller one, slinging it over his head at the larger, vaporizing them both. As he vanquished these two, however, he noticed that the Elites had taken out most of the rest on their own, and he felt especially silly. If nothing else, he had killed two more. He hadn't really killed many back on the _Legacy_, just hacked his way through the mass.

"You're getting there, keyboy," Silent Hunter's voice sounded as he decimated another enemy with an invisible sword.

"Vicus!" Vicus demanded, busting open another midget.

"Right, right," Smoo muttered, coming back to sight as he polished off the last Camo. "Vicus. Keep training. It gets easier with time."

"Easy for you to say," Vicus sighed, thinking his weapon away.

"Hudge," the Hudge slurred, clapping a powerful hand on the boy's shoulder.

From nowhere came another scream, female, and definitely human.

"Hostile place, ain't it?" Bron chuckled.

A young woman raced past them, dressed only in a pink gown. Whether or not she was attractive, they couldn't tell from the momentary glimpse. Nor was it relevant, as a pair of massive crocodilians rushed past them soon after. The two stopped for a moment, sniffing the air, then glanced at the party. They scanned the atmosphere around the group for a moment, then hissed loudly. The Elites brought their weapons back out, roaring their proud roar back. Vicus wasn't too keen on facing these things down, but he rematerialized his key and waited for the charge.

One of the beasts ran as fast as its short legs could manage at Vicus. Without warning, the Hudge grasped Vicus by the back of his vest and launched him into the air. The assailant rose on its hind legs to grab at him, and, without much thought, Vicus lobbed the key at it, getting a good spin on the throw. The beast was knocked off balance and to the side.

Just the opportunity the Hudge was looking for.

Hudge flung himself at the creature, sinking all of his jaws into its neck with tremendous force and pulling his head back. With it came an enormous hunk of flesh, but nothing vital, due to the tough, thick hide surrounding the animal's body. The beast rushed the Hudge, now, and Smoo put all his body into a flying shoulder charge that sent the jaws off course. He worked his mighty fists in between said massive jaws and pulled with all of the power he had in his great arms. He pulled and pulled until finally, he got a decent opening. Hudge pulled a pair of needlers from his belt and unloaded both crystals into the gaping maw. Smoo sprung away while the creature writhed in great pain, then dropped dead as its neck, stomach, and head were ruptured.

"Hold tightly to this," Silent Hunter spoke to Vicus, handing the boy his peculiarly shaped blade. He looked at his brother. "If you would?"

Again, Vicus found himself picked up without warning, this time, spun about, and thrown at the attacking fiend. Responding quickly, he got a good crack on its skull with his key, which sent him spiraling into the air as it rebounded. He looked at Silent Hunter's sword as he fell then thrust it downward as he came down on the beast's back, ending it with a sizzle and a pop.

"The boy has quick reflexes," Silent Hunter admired, taking his sword and returning the blade to its hilt.

"Still rusty," Bron shrugged.

Vicus ignored them and went off to find the young woman. He didn't know her name, or how to respond, so he simply shouted, "Hey, anybody there?"

She came out, actually very attractive. This, coupled with the fact that she was only wearing the pink gown, made Vicus blush heavily.

"You're human?" she asked, feeling his face and his arms. His face began to get even redder.

"Yeah," he stammered. "Need some help?"

"Yeah," she answered, sighing. "Can you get me out of this jungle and back to the shore. There's a ship waiting for me." Vicus assumed she meant Englehorn.

"I know just the one you're talking about," Vicus said, trying not to sound like the kid that he was. "I'm Vicus, by the way." He offered his hand.

"Ann Darrow," she responded, smiling and taking it with her own soft, cold hand.

"We'll get you out of here, Ann," Vicus spoke, turning his head towards the Elites to hide his deep crimson face.

Her face brightened. "You've brought friends?"

"Yeah," he answered. "Come on out, guys."

The Elite Quadra came from their position and into full view.

"The Great Smoo, ma'am," Smoo offered extending his hand. She looked at Smoo, then the Hudge, then Bron, then Silent Hunter, and fainted.

"I'll never quite understand your species," Silent Hunter spoke, placing a hand under his mandibles and peering at the unconscious Ann.

"Red," Hudge rasped, pointing at Vicus' face.

"I'm not sure," Smoo pondered over Vicus' skin, "But I think that's a symbol of embarrassment or bad thoughts."

"Check your facts," Vicus barked as his skin began to pale again. "Someone give her a hand."

Hudge began to walk in her direction, but before he could, another beast, more massive than the two previous reptiles, plummeted from the air and landed heavily in front of Hudge. It must have been 25 feet at the shoulder, with enormous arms and stubby legs, a great deal of dirty, black hair, and a vaguely humanoid appearance.

It was a giant gorilla.

It rose up on its legs and beat its chest furiously, making rather angry noises. Hudge, instinctive rather than intuitive, roared back at it, drawing his needlers again. Before he could squeeze the trigger, the gorilla beat him aside effortlessly with a great forearm. It grabbed up the limp body of Ann, looked her over, then roared the first roar Vicus had heard on the island at them. After this, it barreled through the lot of them and began to traverse through the treetops and onto great rocky slopes until they could no longer see it.

Silver stepped over the great, if not dead, creature with rage. It was a large reptile with a massive head and unsettling teeth. It seemed like he had read about such a creature before, a long time ago, but he never dreamed he would meet one. If nothing else, the crew was impressed that he, Scroop, and Turnbuckle had been able to handle it on their own.

"Quite the show-off I see, eh, Silver?" Amelia snapped.

Silver stopped in his tracks, walked over to Amelia and pinched her jaw with his robotic arm. She winced in pain, but refused to make a noise.

"Ya should consider yerself lucky I didn't feed ya to it and run, Captain," he sneered. "Jimbo's wishes and all that nonsense."

"Let her go, Silver," Jim demanded, holding up the orb. Silver looked at him furiously, his false eye gleaming. He looked back at Amelia and jerked her head out of his hands.

"I'd start watchin' yer tongue, were I you," Silver hissed. He motioned to the guiding light, now humming faster. "We ain't that far from the treasure, ya know. After that, we don't need ya." He raised his gun module to Jim's face. Jim, though terrified, covered it well. Silver spun him about and sent him in the direction of the treasure.

"He's a good lad," Arrow whispered to Amelia. "He'll make it."

"I find myself rather concerned about our own safety," Doppler muttered.

"Something tells me the Elite Quadra hasn't gone down that easily," Arrow smiled. "The keyboy, Vicus, seems like the surviving type, as well."

"Enough," Vlad snapped, his voice deep and ever so hollow.

"I hope you're right," Amelia thought, pessimistic by nature.

As Vicus and his party proceeded deeper into the jungle, they noticed that trees were actually becoming scarcer. Wherever the foliage was, it was either comparatively small or in large, concentrated clusters. Here, the place was covered in flat or steep rock faces and what appeared to be paved streets.

Now, they made their way down one of the aforementioned streets, wide and, for all intents and purposes, barren. To each side, a flat rock face possessed a hill and thicker foliage. It was fairly disturbing, but after a few skirmishes with some streamlined reptiles and more camouflaged shadows, they weren't too worried.

Suddenly, the Elites stopped, listening intently to something. Vicus wanted to ask, but he knew they'd tell him to listen. He did, and heard a soft sound. A twig snapped. The Elites made sure not to look in the direction of the noise, so as not to give themselves away.

"More of 'em," a voice whispered.

"Ain't seen those before," another, younger voice whispered in return.

"They're fantastic," one more whispered, and they heard a soft, rhythmic clicking noise.

"Shut that thing off, Carl!" the first hissed.

"I think they heard us, Jack," the second whispered, "Both of 'em."

Smoo and Bron looked at each other, chuckling softly. Hudge and Silent Hunter, who were taking up a position towards the back, were undetected by the three people. The four glanced at each other, and Silent Hunter and the Hudge switched on their camouflage. Silently and swiftly, they began to climb the rock wall and into the forest. Smoo and Bron pressed forward, Vicus making sure not to give away his own position.

"Guess not," Jack sighed with relief.

"We don't need to leave just yet," Carl suggested.

"You're just sayin' that because you wanna keep filmin'," the only unnamed voice snapped.

"I didn't ask you, Jimmy," Carl sneered.

"Yeah, well, maybe you should!" Jimmy retorted.

"HUUUUUUUUUUDGE!" the Hudge bellowed, sending birds flying scared from the trees. The three hidden people jumped from their positions and landed hard on the street below. Hudge and Silent Hunter came down on the ground next to them, and Silent Hunter wrapped his arm around each of their necks. Smoo aimed a gun at the head of the center man, a tall, thin fellow with jet-black hair and a prominent hook in his nose. Vicus raised his key to the man on Silent Hunter's left, a fat man with nice clothing and brown hair, while Bron eyed the man on the right, or rather, the gangly boy.

"I don't suppose you wanted to do us harm?" Smoo queried, not looking away for a moment.

"We thought you might hurt _us_," the boy they recognized as Jimmy spluttered, struggling to get away.

"We weren't going to make a move until we were certain you were gone," the center man spoke with the voice of Jack.

"Besides," Carl offered, "I could never bring myself to kill such fine specimens for the camera."

"Stow it, Carl!" Jack barked. He turned back to Smoo, pleading. "Listen, we just wanted to get our friend. We have no idea where she is, and…"

"She?" Vicus queried, putting his key away. "You don't mean Ann, do you?"

"What'd you do with Miss Darrow, you pigs?" Jimmy screamed.

"I resent that remark," Bron growled, raising his fuel rod cannon to Jimmy's head.

"You resemble it!" Jimmy spat back.

"Calm down, Jimmy," Jack persuaded, "You're gonna get us all killed." He turned to Smoo again. "Pardon him, he's lost his best friend and the majority of his other friends today."

Something about this touched Smoo, and he lowered his weapon, as did Bron. Silent Hunter released them, and they breathed heavily for a while before speaking.

"You _have_ seen Ann, then?" Jack asked, a sincere air of concern about him.

"Yeah," Vicus explained. "We saved her from these big lizard things, then a giant ape came from nowhere and scooped her up. She was gone like that."

"So," Carl pondered, "Kong _does _have her in his clutches." He pulled out a notepad, jotting something down then turning to Jack. "This is great, Jack, _great_! We've got new heroes on board with strength and skills like nobody would believe." He brought his camera out and asked, "You guys don't mind if I film you, do you?"

"Uh…" Smoo struggled, puzzled.

"Fantastic!" Carl turned his little lever around and around until he was satisfied.

"I beg your pardon," Silent Hunter interjected, "But what makes you so sure we'll help you?"

"Please," Jack begged, nearly shunning his dignity. "Ann means a great deal to all of us. We've gotta get her in a matter of hours before our Captain sets out again."

"Englehorn, right?" Vicus asked.

"That's him," Jimmy nodded.

"Then we'll help you out," Smoo finished. "Anyone that has it out for that blasted Jack Sparrow has to be a decent fellow."

"Don't ask," Bron responded to Jack's unspoken question.

"Vicus," Vicus said, presenting his hand. Jack, Carl, and Jimmy took it and proceeded to meet the Elites.

From nowhere, again, came more shadows, Camos, Midgets, and new beasts that had drills for legs and carried large shovels.

"More of them?" Carl groaned, readying himself for…what?

"Jimmy, Carl," Jack instructed, plucking a spear from the ground. "Get to safety, quickly. We'll catch up."

"I wanna help, Jack," Jimmy whined. Then, as the creatures closed in, Carl took it upon himself to escort the young man away.

Carl shoved Jimmy behind a rock and raised his camera to record the battle. He grinned a dumbfounded grin as he got everything, from Jack running one of the little ones through with a spear to Vicus fencing with the Camos to the Elites using the drill thing's own spinning techniques against it.

"I'm rich," he breathed.

"He get you, too?" the tiny beast asked the rather attractive woman when he was sure Kong was asleep.

"I suppose," she answered, running her hands through her hair in frustration. "Some kind of ritual, I think." She looked at the little thing carefully, and decided he didn't mean her any harm. "I'm Ann, by the way," she said, offering her hand.

"Me Gruntley," he answered, waddling over to take it.

"What's your story, then Gruntley?" Ann asked, relaxing.

"Me figure big guy want play toy," he answered.

"You are quite adorable, to be honest," she smiled. Were his face not so blue and covered by the peculiar apparatus, she might have seen him blushing. "Where are you from?"

"Me a Unggoy," he said proudly. "But Covenant call us Grunts. We made look like fools, then big civil war happen, and Grunts go with Elites."

"Who are they?"

"Big tall scaly guys with funny faces. But don't tell Smoo me say that."

"I think I may have met this Smoo, Gruntley," she said, now kicking herself for being so terrified of Vicus and his friends.

"You did!" Gruntley screamed, ignoring the sleeping Kong. Ann tried to calm him down, but he was too excited. "And Bron and Silent Hunter and Hudge?"

"Yes!" she whispered harshly, wrapping her fingers around his gas mask. They both looked at Kong, who, thankfully, hadn't moved. "And we can go see them," she looked out the cave. "As soon as Jack gets here."

"You friends with Jack Sparrow?"

Jack Sparrow found himself in a rather unfortunate predicament. Of course, such was the story of the life of Captain Jack. Now, his hands and feet were bound, and he was hung by the ropes around his feet over a pot of molten hot…

…cheese.

"Who uses poo for camouflage?" Roach Coah asked the spectators that cared to see Sparrow's justice served.

"Well, it was just a one time thing, a long time ago." Sparrow slurred, trying to talk his way out of it. "And to be honest, I didn't realize it were your feces, or I'd never a used it."

"Don't try and sweet talk me, Sparrow!" Roach Coach snapped, throwing a small rock at the man's forehead. Sparrow winced, but wasn't rendered unconscious or anything close to it.

"I say we burn him now!" a roach man from the back screamed.

"We are fair roaches, are we not?" Roach Coach asked the crowd, who roared their approval. Roach Coach grabbed up a Popsicle stick and held it to the Captain's face.

"I'm only going to give you one chance," he cautioned, wiggling the stick as though it were a sword. "Beg for mercy and apologize, or I'll stick this in your face and drop you into this large pot of cheese." He leaned in. "And just so you know, we've been saving up this cheese for years. Most of it's probably moldy and old." He jiggled his weapon again. "Do ya like splinters?"

"Can't ya just let me off with a slap in the face and a warnin'?" Sparrow pleaded, though not as Roach Coach might've hoped.

"Oh yeah," Roach Coach said, "He's nuts!" He poked Sparrow's nose with the stick several times before giving the command to drop him.

In that split second, a swarm of white things swooped in and nabbed Sparrow from midair and whisked him away, past the trees.

"Hey, you miserable Daisy dollops!" Roach Coach screamed, furiously throwing his stick at the cluster. He looked at his roaches, then back at the cheese. "Fondue!" he shouted.

"Fondue!" they roared in response.

As the party climbed a great, rocky hill, they noticed that the land flattened out into what appeared to have once been a town. Now, it was a ravaged mess of rotting stone buildings.

"Stay cautious," Jack warned, keeping a grip on his spear. "The Natives are clearing out, but the creatures love these kinds of places."

"What're you talkin' about, Jack?" Carl scoffed, gesturing to the Elites. "We've got these guys!" With that, he began to shout at the top of his lungs, taunting any and every monster in the vicinity. He kept this up until Jimmy tackled him and covered his mouth. They wrestled about, then stopped when they heard the loud thumping. It became rhythmic, and Carl shoved the boy off, joining the rest of them as they looked down a long, rocky path.

Around the corner came a terrifying sight. It was the most massive reptile they had seen yet, with a thick head, substantial jaws, and shimmering yellow eyes. It was normal in shape, save for the great, dark fires burning on its sides. It spotted them and roared loudly, exposing its jagged teeth and blackened saliva.

"Jimmy," Jack whispered, "Keep going to Ann without me." He raised his spear.

"We're not leaving without you again, Jack," Jimmy demanded.

"You won't have to," Vicus ensured him. "Jack, you're going to go get Ann, and you're going to be alive when you do it."

"The kid's insane," Carl whispered to Silent Hunter, who nodded in agreement.

"You're sure, Vicus?" Jack asked.

"The Elites and I'll handle this guy. Go!" Jack hesitated, then nodded, sprinting away. When he noticed Carl was filming, he ran back, grabbed the fat man, and dragged him away.

"About that time, eh Hudge?" Bron snarled. Hudge nodded and dropped his needlers, unslinging the human-made rocket launchers from his shoulders as he did. The monster charged them, but Hudge didn't fire, waiting and waiting until finally it got just close enough. He unleashed all of his rockets at once, causing the creature to lose its balance, opening its chest for a pair of green shots from Bron's fuel rod cannon. The beast dropped, hurt, but far from finished. It pushed itself back up, then proceeded to move towards them again. Smoo bellowed his proud roar along with his brothers…

…including Vicus.

"So, yeah, he pretty bad man," Gruntley finished his story on Jack Sparrow.

"And how did you become so close with the Elite Quadra?" Anne asked, fascinated.

"They rescue me from huge explosion of Halo ring," Gruntley explained. "Silent Hunter fascinated by me ability to survive, and he skill me in combat, and that pretty much it."

"You certainly lead an interesting life, Gruntley," she laughed.

From outside the cave, they heard footsteps and became attentive.

"Stand back," Gruntley commanded, getting in front of her.

The creatures ran into the cave and…

"Ann!" Jack cried.

"Miss Darrow!" Jimmy shouted.

"My leading lady lives to film another day!" Carl laughed as they all ran up to her.

"Be quiet!" Gruntley screamed. Ann tried to silence them all, but it was too late. Kong rose up, scratched his chest, then looked in Ann's direction. He saw the three new people, and his eyes went from sleepy to angry as he beat his chest furiously.

"Don't hurt him!" Ann demanded as Jimmy and Carl grabbed up pieces of broken bone to defend themselves with. "He just wants me, that's all. Give me a minute and…" Kong slammed the ground to try and kill Jack, but the man leapt out of the way just in time, throwing his spear at Kong's enormous hand as he rose back to his feet. The pain was quite annoying to the beast, but he shook it off to charge on Jack again.

"Give _me _minute," Gruntley insisted, throwing himself in front of Jack and Ann. "Me distract him and you run." Kong stopped as he reached Gruntley and screamed loudly as a way to keep the little beast in his place. But Gruntley stood firm. Stood firm as Kong kept on. Stood firm as the rest of them ran out the cave…

…Past the rapidly blinking trail of light.

Vicus howled in pain as he grabbed hold of the dark flame to keep himself positioned. It didn't burn, but his arm vibrated, creating both a numbing and exceedingly painful sensation. But he had to keep going. Once he had his footing, he raced up the beast's back and to its head, where he swung with all of his might. It was difficult, as the skull felt like solid steal, but the key had more power than he had anticipated. The monster was obviously stunned, but still not out. It slung its head about, and Vicus was thrown from his spot to the ground. Sore, he rose up again as the Hudge seized a half-second to supply a few needler shots to its side before ducking a tail swipe. Bron grabbed onto the tail at this moment, but was unable to hang on and was removed.

Smoo and Silent Hunter moved back to their brothers behind a rock as the creature closed in.

"It's time to get creative," Smoo growled. "Any ideas?"

Vicus found that he was becoming more strategic as the need arose, and he quickly mulled it over in his head.

"Hunter, stand by," he instructed, "Hudge, reload those launchers." He motioned to the other two. "Get aggressive on both sides, confuse it." Without another word, he rolled aside from a head butt from the monster. It returned to crunch him, but Smoo put another shoulder charge into its skull. Bron rushed it too, striking its head furiously with his fuel rod cannon. Smoo barged again, and Bron struck again, followed by an from Vicus.

"Hudge!" Hudge screamed.

"Get ready to time this, Hunter!" Vicus shouted as Smoo and Bron charged again. Vicus returned to Silent Hunter's side and jerked his head towards the Hudge. Silent Hunter had a rather terrified look about him, but he got the point. He readied himself in front of the Hudge, Vicus next to him. Vicus looked at the beast and waited for Smoo and Bron to get it back to the right spot.

"Fire!" Vicus shouted as it hit the right point. The Hudge complied, unloading every round, and Silent Hunter leapt into the air, carrying Vicus with him. The two each dropped onto a swift-moving rocket and readied their blades. They removed themselves from the projectiles in time to avoid the large explosion. The spiraled in the air for a moment, then came down in unison, crunching through the beast's flesh and some bone as they landed flawlessly on the ground. It stumbled to the side and into a stone building, the two collapsing, but only one truly dead.

"Rash thinking," Bron spoke to Vicus.

"Indeed," Silent Hunter scorned. Vicus hung his head, sorry he had even suggested it. Then Smoo began to snicker, then laugh along with the other Elites until all five of them were laughing heartily.

"The boy has skill," Smoo finally admitted. "Let no man tell him otherwise!"

"Hudge!" the Hudge chortled, lifting Vicus up in a strangulating bear hug.

"They's sweet, they is," a voice spoke from behind one of the structures.

"Aye, they's nice folks," another said.

"Shame they have to die here," another chuckled. The voices revealed themselves, along with more unidentified people, as only half of anything. They laughed sinister laughs as they drew old, rusty weapons and surrounding the group.

"Your friends is gonna learn a thing or two, too," a man with a tentacle for an arm an a bulbous head laughed.

Vicus caught it.

"Jack," he whispered, "Ann."

"We'll clear you a path," Smoo growled, drawing forth a blue orb with some sort of switch on it.

"Go," Silent Hunter said, disappearing.

"Here it is, lads!" Silver shouted as they finally reached the top of the great structure and the cave dug into it…

…With nothing in it.

"What 'n the bleedin' mess is this?" a pirate shouted, furious.

Silver looked about, but saw nothing but a huge mess.

"Where is it, Captain?" Scroop snarled, livid at this point. "We've been doin' nothin' but walkin' and fightin' monsters for hours now. I'd suggest we find that treasure, now."

Jim watched as the map closed itself and stopped making even the slightest noise. Morph glanced out of his pocket, then recoiled as he noticed all of the furious pirates.

"I need a little help, Morph," he whispered. "Find me some marker of the treasure, okay?" Morph chattered something, then reluctantly flew off, carefully searching the cave. After some time, he cried out, very excited.

"Morph?" Silver queried, noticing his pet. "Morph, I thought I'd lost ya fer good!" He grabbed up the blob and scratched him for a moment, then took notice of a slight dip in the ground. A half circle etched with peculiar markings.

"Jimbo!" he shouted, moving towards Jim and shoving towards it. "Whaddya make of it?" Jim glanced at the map, then at the hole, and had an epiphany. He carefully placed the orb into the pocket and watched as the ground around it vanished, revealing a single treasure chest.

Silver, though very annoyed and terrified, jumped into the new hole in the ground.

"Morphy," he spoke nervously. "Can ya gimme a hand here?" Morph floated down and eyed the lock. Then, he morphed into a peculiar key and inserted himself into the keyhole, turning it and releasing the lock. Silver popped it open as everyone, including the survivors of the _Legacy_, looked down and saw the treasure they so yearned for.

It was a heart, still throbbing.

"That's it?" another pirate shouted, lifting a rock and tossing it away.

"We come all way for nasty stinking heart?" Onus screamed.

"Ya don't get it, do ya?" Silver breathed, his face bright and dumbstruck. "This ain't just any heart we got here, lads."

"Then what do you call it?" Scroop demanded, scuttling down into the hole.

Silver turned to him, beaming. "How much do ya know about Davy Jones?"


	8. Chapter 8

**Eight**

Vicus bounded as quickly as his legs could carry him back through the jungle, ignoring the pain rising in his muscles and his feet and soon the sting of the trees that whipped at his face. He hoped, prayed that the Quadra could hold its own. But more importantly, he hoped he could reach the shore in time to save Jack, Ann, Carl, and Jimmy. He blamed himself, but he couldn't let it stop him now.

The Hudge dropped the last of the mutated sailors from his death grip and looked about the slaughter.

"Bracing, yes, the stench of death?" Smoo growled with pride.

"Here, here!" Silent Hunter agreed. Smoo, Silent Hunter, and Bron reveled in their victory, but the Hudge got the sneaking suspicion that he had forgotten something. He had cleaned his weapons, checked for all possible enemies, made certain his allies were around, even knocked the filth off his boots. Agitated, he scratched his neck, wondering exactly what it was they were forgetting.

"Vicus!" he garbled, slapping himself on the head.

"The keyboy!" Smoo remembered, putting his weapons away. "We must go help him!"

"Indeed," Silent Hunter agreed, "sheathing" his sword. Bron nodded and strapped his cannon to his back.

Suddenly, there was a racket from somewhere farther away. It didn't sound threatening. More confused and excitedly careless. As they came into view, the Quadra noticed familiar faces. They weren't very good acquaintances, per se, but something about them screamed "I recognize you." A hefty man with half an organic body, followed by the biggest lobster in the world and a whole slew of other bizarre-looking creatures dashed past them without a care in the world.

"That was John Silver, wasn't it?" Silent Hunter spoke after a moment of sheer bamboozlement.

"I do believe it was," Smoo answered.

"We just let John Silver get right past us without a word, didn't we?" Silent Hunter spoke again.

"Hudge," the Hudge responded.

"Four of the mightiest beings around," Bron began, "And we can't stop a fat man and his lobster."

"It would seem so," Smoo agreed.

Vicus reached the outer edge of the forest and raced up the hill to the top of the wall. With great haste and thoughtlessness, he practically slid down the steps and into the final leg of the jungle. He broke forth onto the shore and…

…Found himself surrounded by more mutant pirates.

"Good timing," Jack managed to smile as he looked back over his shoulder at Vicus.

"I don't suppose you could pull off any more awe-inspiring stunts?" Carl asked, gesturing with his camera. Jimmy merely clutched his piece of bone and tried to look as intimidating as possible. Vicus gritted his teeth and ground his hands into his key, trying to formulate the best course of action.

"I'm sorry I got everyone into this," Jim sighed, tied up and propped up against a wall.

"Don't fuss, Hawkins," Amelia commanded, trying to stay warm in her voice. "You didn't crash the _Legacy_¸ and you couldn't have foreseen Silver's actions."

"I knew he was fishy from the start," Jim scorned. "I just ignored it."

"Happens," Arrow shrugged. "The good doctor seemed like a right smart fellow at first, too."

"I resent that remark, Arrow," Doppler smiled through his grief.

"Not half as much as you resemble it, I can tell you that much, Doctor," Amelia chuckled. Jim, despite his sheer depression, looked at her and smiled. Then, he chuckled, then laughed along with the other three.

"I suppose this is the end, then," Doppler said, looking at Amelia. "And I suppose we should share some, ahem, last words."

"How about we save that for when you're actually about to die?" a familiar voice came from the front of the cave. From the position of the voice, Silent Hunter appeared from thin air along with his younger brother. Amelia stood gaping as Arrow laughed with victory. Silent Hunter worked, carefully cutting two sets of ropes while Bron used brute strength to tear the other two off.

"I'll assume you know how to use this," Bron said, dipping into his stash of extra weapons and doling them out.

"Well, I've, erm…" Doppler stammered, carefully holding the simple plasma pistol. "Well, I've certainly read of…um…" the pistol began to glow, though nobody seemed to notice. "Perhaps I might have…" the pistol discharged, and the two Elites jolted to the sides, each taking somebody with them. "Uh, no, no, I don't."

Jim rubbed his wrists to get the feeling back into them as Silent Hunter approached him.

"Head up, Hawkins," he said, his voice somewhat calming. "You've been given a second chance. Few people can say as much." He handed Jim a plasma pistol, which Jim took with a confident nod.

"Alright," Silent Hunter spoke to everyone. "We've got a ways to travel and it'll take some time on foot." From nowhere came the large, reddish vehicle that the Elites had brought on the _Legacy. _

"Unless you've got a Spectre," Bron panted, massaging his shoulder. Silent Hunter looked at the Spectre, then back at his party, and jerked his head towards the vehicle.

Vicus had hoped they were planning on taking him alive, but that didn't seem likely.

"Jimmy," Jack whispered, "get Ann out of here."

"Yes sir!" Jimmy shouted, taking Ann's hand and swinging his makeshift spear wildly enough to clear a path for the two of them to run. The creatures didn't seem to care too much as they soon moved back into position and began to close in, laughing.

"What do I get to fight with, Jack?" Carl whispered, hurriedly. Jack reached over, grabbed Carl's camera, and broke one of the legs of the tripod, and handed both things back to him. "Fair enough," Carl said.

"Captain Englehorn!" Jimmy shouted as they rounded the corner to be met by the _S.S. Venture._

"Jimmy! Miss Darrow!" Englehorn shouted back, lowering a rope ladder. "Where are Driscoll and Denham? And Hayes?"

"Hayes is dead, and Jack and Carl will be, too, if we don't help them," Jimmy answered, not bothering to get aboard. "They're being attacked by these pirate animal things."

"Pirates?" Englehorn queried. "Jimmy, this is a tramp steamer, for God's sakes, not a battle cruiser!"

"Do whatever you have to!" Ann demanded. "We have to save Jack!"

Englehorn looked grim for a moment, then returned to the bridge and pressed the intercom switch. "All personnel still aboard the _Venture_, grab a weapon and report to the starboard bow on the double." A few moments later, Englehorn came back with a pistol, which he tossed down to Jimmy. "Hurry, Miss Darrow!" Englehorn instructed, gesturing to the ladder. Ann obediently climbed it as Englehorn returned to the bridge to increase the _Venture's _speed and Jimmy sped off towards Jack and the others.

Jack's spear splintered in two as a conch-headed beast hacked through it with an axe. Driscoll threw down the useless piece and began attempting to fence with the sharp end. Carl did his best to be intimidating as he madly swung his tripod leg around, while Vicus gave his all to fight back with his key. There were simply too many of them.

Then came the gunshots.

From the sea, there arose a loud noise like a foghorn. The battle stopped to see the _S.S. Venture _rounding the bend, a handful of crewmembers firing away with rifles. Jimmy soon followed, shooting with a pistol.

"'Atta boy, Jimmy!" Carl shouted with glee, repositioning himself away from the battle to begin recording it. Now, it was a fight, the pirates attempting to evade the bullets while still trying to bring down Vicus.

Then came Silver.

Silver and his crew exploded forth from the forest, bringing the battle to a confused halt again. The sea beasts paused, then noticed a peculiar chest Silver held in hand arms.

"Get him!" a monster shouted.

Silver tossed the chest back to Onus, who scrambled away to safety. Scroop tackled a beast that could have been family while Silver drew his sword. His crew gave a holler and drew their weapons, joining the fray.

Then came the shadows.

As Onus hid in safety, a group of the Midget shadows appeared from the ground and began to attack him furiously, trying to get to the chest. Finally, he gave it to them, fearing for his life.

"Captain!" he shouted, "Shadows have chest!"

Silver looked to the side to notice that the little beasts did, in fact, have the chest.

"Vlad, Turnbuckle!" he commanded. "Get those blackened scallywags!" Vlad and Turnbuckle dropped what they were doing to destroy the little munchkins. Almost effortlessly, they managed to kill them, only to have larger ones appear. Vlad handed the chest to Turnbuckle, who ran off with it, and began pummeling the beasts with all four arms.

Then came Smoo and the Hudge.

The two Elites bounded forth from the trees and began violently attacking the monster pirates. Smoo backed up, constantly firing, and bumped into Vicus.

"Keyboy!" he shouted.

"Smoo!" Vicus laughed. "You won't believe how glad I am to see you!"

"Cap'n!" a straggler from the battle coughed as he climbed onto the _Flying Dutchman. _"We got a problem."

"Did ye find the keybearer?" Jones demanded.

"Aye, Cap'n," the crewman answered, choking on a chest wound. "But 'eres been some complications. 'Eres anuver ship out 'ere. Calls itself the _Venture_, or summin like that. An' what's worse, 'is bunch o' pirates got them the chest!"

"Where?" Jones snarled, lifting the beast up with his claw. The crewman, ever loyal, pointed a trembling hand towards the port side and died.

Jones' lip trembled for a moment before he screamed in fury and lobbed the corpse off the ship with all of his might.

"What'd I tell ya?" Sparrow spoke as he dropped the rag from his mouth. With his hands bound, he had no choice but to use the washrag with his teeth. "I told ya there'd be a rescue party comin' to get me." Jones turned about and cracked Sparrow in the face with his claw.

"If I hear one more smart word out o' ye, it'll be ten fold worse!" Jones snapped. He turned to the rest of his crew. "Ye heard the dead man! Get the anchors outta yer pants and make for that battle ground, full speed ahead!"

The battle seemed to be turning in Vicus' favor. True, they still had to deal with Silver and his crew, but if they could handle these freaks, Vicus believed Silver would be the least of their worries.

Indeed, it was made so.

The shadows made their way past where Vlad once stood and joined the battle. They had no side, but tended to prefer attacking Vicus or the odd chest in Silver's possession. Of course, possession had the tendency to change, depending on the strength of the unfortunate soul who had the chest in his clutches. Turnbuckle had learned this the hard way, as had many other pirates on both sides. Vicus couldn't care less about the miserable thing. He was just concerned about keeping himself alive.

And, you know, avoiding the evil pirate ship.

Soon enough, the jagged ship that had destroyed the _Legacy _came into view, turning about to aim its cannons on the _Venture._

"Englehorn!" Jack shouted. "No!"

There was a rapid blast of cannon fire that destroyed the bow of the _Venture. _Thankfully, the ship was close to the shore, and it managed to beach itself. But the crew of thewicked vessel was already reloading for an attack that would surely end the miserable steamer. Vicus had to think of something, but there was nothing he could do, alone against a battle ship.

"Everybody out!" Englehorn commanded. Without another word, save for their own frantic screams, the crew began to pile out. Some were still trapped, trying to navigate the wreckage.

Then came the Spectre.

Bron hit the throttle, and everyone in the battle jumped to avoid the speeding vehicle. He brought it close enough for Amelia unleash a barrage of plasma blasts from the turret. Normally, something so small wouldn't have done much to the massive ship. Plasma, however, was a funny thing that nobody really understood. It ate through the hull for a moment before sizzling out.

"Vicus, my boy!" Amelia shouted, getting down. "Take the gun! Arrow and I can take it from here!" She drew forth a weapon Vicus recognized as a plasma rifle, while arrow brought forth a carbine. Silent Hunter soon jumped from his seat as well, bringing out his pride and joy.

"Simple, Doc," Bron instructed Doppler, "This steers, this throttles." With that, he brought out his weapon and joined the skirmish.

"Simple, yes," Doppler scoffed. "Well, at least we're not cramped anymore, eh Jim?"

"Right, Del," Jim answered. He turned to Vicus, and they both stood straight.

"Might've thought you were dead," Vicus said, extending his hand.

"I'm Jim Hawkins, pally," Jim said, taking it.

"Well, then, Mr. Hawkins," Vicus smiled, "Let's see what you can do." At this, Vicus climbed into the turret seat, looked it over, then grabbed the handles. Jim sat down on one of the side seats and grabbed the side of the vehicle for stability.

"Doc," Jim spoke, "Get us close enough to the battle that we can help, but keep it steady for Vicus to cover the steamer long enough for everyone to get out."

"Aye, aye, Mr. Hawkins!" Doppler smiled, stepping on the proverbial gas.

"Hull breach, Captain!" the first mate spoke.

"I can see that, ye blasted fool!" Jones barked, turning furiously on his heel. He grabbed his crewman by the throat, then noticed something.

"Get the crew up to the deck, now," he whispered in the shark's ear before throwing him to the door to the lower levels. He looked at Sparrow. Who was gazing intently at the battle. Jones reached out and tapped Sparrow's shoulder with his long index finger.

"Can't it wait, bloke?" Sparrow responded, knowing well what it would get him. "This is one of the best things I've ever seen."

"'Fraid not, Sparrow," Jones hissed, approaching him and pinching the pirate's shoulder with his claw, drawing blood. "I've got a job for ye."

"I think they're stopping!" Vicus shouted over the racket to Doppler. "We can join the battle now!"

"Doesn't look like there's much of a battle left," Jim shouted in return. "The pirates are retreating."

Indeed, the creatures were falling back towards their ship, resulting in an applause that only lasted until the shadows began to attack again.

"By Jove," Silver breathed as he watched the beasts retreat. He looked at Scroop, who currently had the chest. "That ain't no ordinary ship, lads! That's the _Flyin' Dutchman _itself!" His crew stopped and stared at him, as did Amelia, Arrow, Doppler, and Jim.

"We beat Davy Jones!" one of his pirates shouted as they fired on a shadow.

"Are ya bleedin' daft, mate?" Silver bellowed, snatching the chest from Scroop and retreating back to the forest. "Davy Jones don't ever back down until he wins! He don't know we have it! And if he don't know, he don't care about _us_!" The rest of his people followed him, the shadows right behind them.

"What's he got?" Vicus asked, climbing down from the gun.

"The heart of Davy Jones," Jim answered, looking towards the _Flying Dutchman_.

"He who controls the heart controls the seas," Doppler spoke, getting out of the cockpit. "Supposedly.

"Jones makes deals," Doppler continued. "A favor for a soul. He uses his heart to find his victims."

"It's not your ship, and _I _didn't destroy it. Jones did," Sparrow spoke in Vicus' memory.

"Sparrow was running," Vicus breathed with realization. "He knew where the heart was. He could save himself with that heart." As much as Vicus resented Sparrow, he couldn't help but feel sorry for the man. He looked to the _Flying Dutchman_. "I'm going after Jones," he insisted.

"You can't!" Doppler insisted, but it was too late. Vicus was determined to free Sparrow from the curse, whether his mind liked it or not.

As he reached the shoreline, there was a thunderous boom.

"Kong!" Vicus heard Ann shout with joy. But there was no successive rumble. Nor was there any sign of Kong. The sea stirred and trembled, but the _Dutchman _didn't move. Vicus looked to the bow of the ship and saw a green, humanoid creature with what appeared to be an octopus for a face. It tipped its hat as it saw him, smiling an evil smile.

Then came the Kraken.


End file.
